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®  Nov  52 

DEC  1'" 


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TO  THE  READER. 

This  book  is  not  in 
good  condition.  Please 
use  it  carefully. 

FORM  NO. 403    ;    7,24.36;  4M. 


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CROWNED  WITH  STARS 


ELEANOR    C.   DONNELLY. 


With  a  Preface  by  the  Very  Rev.  Edward  Sorin,  Superior-General 
OF  THE  Congregation  of  the  Holy  Cross. 


"■And  there  appeared  a  great   wonder  in   the  heaven^  a  Wo7nan   clothed 

with  the  S2in^  aud  the  moon  under  her  feet^  and  on  her 

head  a  crown  of  twelve  stars.'"' — apoc.  xii,  i. 


PUBLISHED   to   AID    IN    PLACING    ON    THE    DOME    OF   THE    NEW    UNIVERSITY   OF 

NOTRE   DAME,   INDIANA,    A   COLOSSAL   STATUE    OF   THE   BLESSED   VIRGIN 

MARY,    CROWNED   WITH   TWELVE    STARS   OF   ELECTRIC   LIGHT. 


NOTRE     DAME     UNIVERSITY, 

NOTRE     DAME, IND. 
1881. 


/^-' 


DEDICATION. 


TO    THE 

PROFESSORS,    STUDENTS,  AND    ALUMNI 

Or   THE  University    or    Notee    Dame,  St.    Joseph's    County,   Indiana, 

THOSE  BELOVED  CHILDREN  OF  MARY, 

who   haa^e  long  been  intimately  associated  in  a  topogeaphical,  as 

well  as  a  eeligious,  way  with  the 

sweet  titles  of 

OUR  LADY  AND  HER  HOLY  SPOUSE, 

THESE   POEMS,   IN  HONOE   OF   THEIR   GLOEIOTJS   PATRONESS, 

THE  QUEEN  OF  HEAVEN, 

AEE   DEDICATED,   WITH   THE    SINCERE   ESTEEM   AND   AFFECTION 
OF   THEIR  FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHORESS. 


ERRATA. 


A  stranger,  to  whom  the  proof-reading  of  Miss 
Donnelly's  charming  volume  had  been  confidingly 
entrusted,  took  such  unexpected  and  unwarrantable 
liberties  with  the  author's  faultless  work  that  the 
publisher  finds  it  necessary  to  print  here  an  errata 
of  some  of  the  chief  blund'ers  that  could  not  be 
corrected  except  by  re-printing  the  entire  book.  Miss 
Donnelly's  manuscript  is  faultlessly  clear,  and  her 
punctuation  as  nearly  perfect  as  can  be.  We  mention 
this  because  of  the  many  minor  changes  made  by  the 
proof-reader,  not  mentioned  here,  which  tend  to  mar  the 
work,  and  which  can  not  be  corrected  in  the  first  edition. 


Page  17,  second  stanza,  fourth  line,  instead  of  "  With,"  begin- 
ning fourth  line,  read  "  And,"  making  the  line  read  — 

"  And  the  tears  of  poor  Judah,  combine  " 

Page   19,  first  line  of  stanza  VII,  for    "depths"  read    "pa- 
tient," and  for  "  were  "  read  "  was  "  — 

"  How  the  dim,  patient  Limbo  was  stirred." 

Page    19,    third    line    of    stanza    IX,    "hidden"    should    be 
"hid"  — 

"  Lay  hid  in  the  bosom  of  Joachim's  spouse." 

Page  20,  last  line  of  stanza  XIV,   "a  word  "  should  be  "  one 

word  "  — 

"  Lest  their  ears  should  miss  hearing  one  word." 


Page  28,  first  line  of  stanza  IV,  "silent  she  sits"  should 
read  "still  she  sitteth  "  ;  and  "does"  should  be  "doth" — read- 
ing: 

"  How  still  she  sitteth  !  She  doth  not  spin." 

Same  page  —  "  is,"  in  last  line  of  stanza  V,  should  be  omitted, 

the  line  reading  — 

"  Is  half  so  lovely  as  thy  face  !  " 

Page  31  —  "Within,"  concluding  fifth  line  of  stanza  XV, 
should  be  "  in  " —  reading, 

"  When  the  light  of  thy  purity  shines  in." 

Page  32  —  the  word  "our,"  third  line  of  stanza  XVTT,  is  a 
repetition. 

Page  36  —  second  line  of  first  stanza,  for  "through,"  read 
"'thwart";  and  for  "  was,"  second  line  of  second  stanza,  read 
"  were." 

"  Page  63  —  first  word  of  second  line  of  first  stanza  should  be 

'  To,"  not  "  Is  " — 

"  To  Genazzano  quaint  and  fair,*" 

and  the  word  "  the  "  inserted  in  third  line  — 

"  In  the  mystic  glow  of  the  long  ago." 

Page   65  —  first   line    of    second    stanza,    for    "place,"    read 

"  space" — 

"  Where  high  in  space,  o'er  the  altar-place." 

Page    66  —  first   line    of    third    stanza,     for    "  doubt,"    read 

*'  doubts," — 

"  In  all  our  fears,  our  doubts,  our  tears." 

Page  73  —  for  the  second  "in"  in  the  second  line  of  stanza 

III,  read  "  as  " — 

"  Once,  (in  days  dark  as  the  present,)  " 

Page  75  — the  word  "  voices,"  fifth  line  of   stanza  VI,  should 

read  "  voice  " — 

"  And  the  voice  of  many  thousands." 


Page  76 — the  word  "maiden's,"   first  line  of  second  stanza, 

should  be  "maiden,"  and   the   word   "  wed,"  in  the  third  line, 

should  be  "  web  " — 

"  And  over  the  maiden  visage, 
So  like  a  thing  of  flesh, 
Like  a  spider's  web  o'er  a  HI}', 
Is  cast  that  filmy  mesh." 

Page    78  —  fourth    line    of    first    stanza,   read    "secret''    for 

"  savory" — 

"  A  secret  odor  of  peace." 

Page  104 — the  word  "  tired,"  first  line  of  stanza  VIII,  should 
be  "  tried  " — 

"  And  when  the  tried  and  tempted,  before  him  bending  low." 

Page   119 — second  line   of  second   stanza,  read   "night"  for 
"nights" — 

"  The  wintry  night  hath  flown." 

Page  130  —  the  word  "binding,"  second  line  of  fourth  stanza, 
should  be  "  bidding  " — 

"  Bidding  the  camp  and  the  hospital  bloom." 


PREFACE. 


There  was  a  time  when  every  true  Christian  found  supreme 
happiness  in  joining  any  movement  inspired  by  holy  faith,  which 
promised  a  new  glory  to  the  sweet  name  of  the  august  Mother  of 
Jesus.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  so  properly  called  the  Ages  of  Faith, 
the  Church  of  God  was  distinguished  by  a  general  characteristic 
feature,  viz.,  the  universal  devotion  of  all  Christian  nations  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin.  The  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  in  par- 
ticular, so  conspicuously  reveal  this  deep  sentiment  of  love  for 
Mary,  that  no  historian  of  any  rank  has  ever  attempted  to  conceal 
it.  Indeed  no  honest  or  candid  mind  could  call  into  doubt  such 
an  evident,  fact  witnessed  by  millions  through  ages,  and  attested 
even  now  by  countless  monuments  still  covering  Europe,  and  thus 
continuing  the  grand  hymn  of  praise  which  the  Christian  world 
had  intoned  in  rapture  to  the  glory  of  its  heavenly  Queen.  For 
centuries  this  admirable  European  concert,  far  from  losing  any- 
thing of  its  enthusiasm,  kept  on  gaining  in  strength  year  after 
year,  clearly  showing  the  undying  love  from  which  it  sprang,  and 
keeping  in  perfect  unison  the  voices  of  all  nations,  as  well  as  of 
all  classes :  a  marvellous  unity,  which  love  alone  can  form  and 
preserve  in  a  family,  for  a  mother  in  whom  all  affections  natur- 
ally center. 


VI  PREFACE. 

In  presence  of  such  eloquent  testimonials  of  our  noble  ances- 
tors' admirable  devotion  to  Mary,  what  comparison  shall  our  puny- 
efforts  bear  with  the  amazing  productions  of  their  lively  faith  and 
magnificent  liberality?  They  loved  that  holy  Mother,  and  could 
never  do  enough  for  her  cause.  We,  Christians  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  shall  leave  to  our  successors  a  different  record,  the  prom- 
inent feature  of  which  will  probably  be,  the  love  of  ourselves, 
of  our  ease  and  comfort.  We  may  boast  of  our  surprising  inven- 
tions and  discoveries,  of  our  advance  in  science,  and  increase  of 
wealth,  but  with  all  these  superior  advantages  we  are  not  remark- 
able for  religious  achievements. 

When,  at  times,  the  sky  is  overcast,  we  begin  to  feel  the 
absence  of  the  sun,  we  long  for  its  return ;  and  when  it  reappears, 
nature  is  gladdened  and  seems  more  than  ever  sensible  of  its 
warm  rays,  and  the  splendor  it  spreads  around.  We  seldom  value 
what  we  possess  until  we  realize  that  there  is  a  danger  of  losing 
it.  The  child  never  turns  more  quickly  to  its  mother's  arms  than 
when  suddenly  frightened ;  and  no  sooner  does  it  rest  on  her 
bosom  than  all  fright  is  over.  Like  the  little  child,  when  we 
reach  the  arms  of  our  Heavenly  Mother,  we  feel  safe,  and  almost 
forget  what  frightened  us  only  a  moment  before.  Oh,  the  peace, 
the  security,  the  charms  of  a  mother's  embrace  !  As  we  have 
named  her,  let  us  rest  a  moment  in  the  light  of  her  sweet  counie- 
nance.     Bonum  est  nos  hie  esse. 

When  we  look  back,  half  a  century,  we  see  in  all  directions  so 
many  wonderful  improvements,  and  such  evidences  of  heavenly 
benediction,  that  we  cannot  help   feeling  that  God  is  with  us. 


PREFACE.  VU 

Among  the  cheering  signs  which  daily  increase  our  confidence  in 
God,  there  is  one  which  we  place  above  all  others :  we  see,  with 
delight,  so  many  noble  souls  enrolling  themselves  by  thousands 
under  the  glorious  standard  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  so  many  loving 
hearts,  whose  aims  and  aspirations  rise  above  the  level  of  this 
world,  that  we  can  entertain  no  fears  for  a  land  which  on  its  first 
discovery  was  consecrated  to  the  Mother  of  God.  Where  she  is 
loved  and  honored,  there  Christ  must  be  worshipped  in  spirit  and 
in  truth.  What  a  marvellous  change  we  behold  on  all  sides  in 
forty  years  !  The  wilderness  of  yesterday  is  metamorphosed  into  a 
garden  of  beautiful  flowers.  Hkc  mutatio  dexteroe.  Excelsi.  With 
the  illustrious  mouth-piece  of  the  ist  Council  of  Ephesus,  we 
assign  it  to  the  mediation  of  our  heavenly  Queen.  "  Hail  Mary, 
Mother  of  God  ! "  exclaimed  St.  Cyril,  in  the  venerable  assembly, 
"  to  thee  we  owe  it  that  countless  churches  have  been  founded  in 
the  cities  and  towns  and  isles  that  have  received  the  true  Faith." 
We  are  dazzled  by  the  rays  of  light  flashing  from  all  points 
over  our  Continent.  May  it  not  be  that  the  mystical  candlestick 
that  once  moved  from  the  far  East  to  irradiate  European  shores, 
is  again  traveling  westward  to  flood  our  land  with  its  heavenly 
effulgence  ?  One  thing  is  certain  ;  the  most  tender  devotion  to 
the  Blessed  Virgin  is  gaining  ground  in  our  country  with  marvel- 
lous rapidity ;  pious  flocks  are  multiplying,  devoted  shepherds 
watching.  Like  the  Wise  Men  of  old,  they  find  the  Infant  with 
Mary,  His  Mother,  and,  prostrating  themselves,  they  adore  Him  ; 
and,  opening  their  treasures,  they  offer  Him  their  gifts.  We  have 
resolved  never  to  separate  in  our  love  Mary  from  Jesus,  between 


VIU  PREFACE. 

whom  there  was  an  inseparable  union  on  earth,  as  there  is  now  in 
heaven. 

Among  Christians,  a  spotless  life  is  ever  in  honor ;  and  it  is 
an  edification  to  all,  an  eloquent  plea  for  virtue ;  but  when  the 
spark  of  genius  falls  upon  a  warm  and  stainless  heart,  a  new  star 
seems  to  appear  in  the  firmament,  to  point  the  way  to  heaven.     In 
our  best  choirs,  voices  attuned  in  Mary's  school,  and  after  Mary's 
accents,  possess  a  beauty,  a  richness,  a  sweetness  all  their  own  ; 
above  all  other  voices,  they  charm  the  ear  and  melt  the  heart ;  the 
moment  they  intone  their  hymn  of  love  to  the  Virgin  Mother, 
silence  reigns,  and  every  ear  is  strained  to  catch  the  melody ;  the 
unison  of  hearts  is  magical.      Last  year,  a  sweet  voice  of   this 
refined  school  was  raised,  in  the  East,  in  behalf  of  Notre  Dame, 
then  slowly  rising  from  her  bed  of  ashes  :  the  appeal  was  touch- 
ing and  tender  ;  many  a  soul  was  moved  by  it,  and  listened  with 
delight.      Maurice  F.  Egan's   name  is  now  enshrined  forever  in 
every  bosom  among  the  well-wishers  of  Notre  Dame.     His  was 
a  rich,  prelude,  to  a  second  and  new  effusion  from  the  same  East, 
and  the  same  City  of  Brotherly  Love.     Yesterday,  it  would  seem, 
a  new  star  appeared,  pointing  to  a  favored  spot,  and  inviting  every 
child  of  Mary  to  come  and   share  in  a  most  glorious  task:  to 
place   on   the   brow  of  Jesus'    Mother   a   rich,   shining   crown. 
Twelve  bright  poems,  each  one  a  jewel  in  itself,  reflecting  in 
vivid  colors  one  of  the  divine  Mother's  chief  virtues.     "With  our 
whole  soul  we  thank  the  gifted  and  pious  author  whose  spontan- 
eous and  precious  offering  we  pray  Jesus  Himself  to  acknowledge 
in  His  own  time,  by  crowning  her,  and  all  her  associates  in  the 


PREFACE.  IX 


noble   work,    with    unfading    honor    and    glory,   for   a   blessed 
eternity. 

Since  our  first  arrival  at  Notre  Dame,  which  was  then  in  the 
midst  of  a  primeval  forest,  an  Indian  hunting-ground,  our  inces- 
sant care  has  been  to  look  to  our  Blessed  Mother's  interests. 
For  forty  years,  one  desire  has  filled  our  soul,  viz. :  to  raise  up  in 
America  a  monument  to  Mary  like  those  that  are  seen  and  ad- 
mired throughout  Europe,  on  every  Christian  shore,  wherever  a 
loving  heart  can  be  found  to  bless  her  whom  all  generations  have 
blessed.  In  this  labor  of  love,  we  have  delighted  to  spend  our- 
self  and  be  spent.  Heaven  has  blessed  us  far  beyond  our  expec- 
tations. O,  how  deeply  we  thank  all  our  generous  helpers  ! 
And  what  an  unspeakable  joy  for  us,  in  the  evening  of  our  life, 
to  know  that  every  day  and  forever,  the  Adorable  Sacrifice  will 
be  offered  for  the  benefactors  of  Notre  Dame  !  If  we  live  to 
see  our  Mother's  Home  adorned  with  its  magnificent  Dome, 
and  placed  upon  it,  as  on  a  fitting  pedestal,  the  colossal  statue, 
now  awaiting  its  glorious  assumption,  where  it  will  reflect  the 
bright  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  and  illumine,  by  its  electric  stars, 
the  darkness  of  night ; — if  we  live  to  see  this  work  accomplished, 
then  we  will  joyfully  repeat  the  sweet  canticle  of  this  day's  office, 
*'  Nunc  dimittis  servum  tmim,  Domine,  in  pace^ 

E.  SORIN,  C.  S.  C. 
Notre  Dame,  Ind., 

Feast  of  the  Pttrification,  1881. 


■A 


CONTENTS. 


To  Mary,  Conceived  without  Sin.        -  -  -       14 


CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

Star  the  First;   Purity  —  The  Immaculate  Conception 

of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  -  -  -  17 

Star  the  Second:    Simplicity  —  Her  Nativity,    -  -      22 

Star  the   Third:    Generosity  —  Her  Presentation    in 

the  Temple,         -  -  -  -  -  -       24 

Star  the  Fourth;    Recollection  —  Her  Hidden   Life 

in  the  Temple,   -  -  -  -  -  -       27 

Star  the  Fifth  :    Humility  —  The  Annunciation  of  the 

Angel  Gabriel  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,       -  -       33 

Star  the  Sixth  :  Fraternal  Charity  —  Her  Visitation 

to  St.  Elizabeth,  -  -  -  -  -       36 

Star  the  Seventh  :    Poverty  —  Her  Maternity,      -  38 

Star  the  Eighth:  Obedience  —  Her  Purification,  -  40 
Star  the  Ninth  :  Detachment  —  The  Flight  into  Egypt,  42 
Star  the  Tenth:    Fidelity  —  The  Hidden  Life  of  the 

Blessed  Mother  at  Nazareth,  -  -  -  44 

Star  the  Eleventh:   Self-Immolation  —  Her  Dolors,      48 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


Star  the  Twelfth:  Divine  Love  and  Eternal 
Union  with  God  —  Her  blessed  Death  and  glorious 
Assumption  into  Heaven,     -  -  -  -  52 


LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS    FOR    THE    CHIL- 
DREN OF  MARY. 

Pippo's  Vision,         -            -            -           -            -  -      59 

Our  Lady  of  Good  Counsel  at  Genazzano,  ■         -  63 

The  Betrothal  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  -      67 

In  Heliopolis,  -           -           -           -           -            -  70 

Mater  MiSERicoRDiy^,        -           -           -            -  -      72 

The  Veiled  Head  in  the  Window,             -            -  75 

Blessed  Berchmans'  Legacy,        -           -           -  -      78 

A  Little  Legend  of  the  "Ave  Maria,"    -            -  80 

The  Madonna's  Penitent,            -           -'          -  -      83 

Our  Blessed  Lady's  Sleep,    -           .           -            -  87 

At  Last,    ■--            -            -           -            -            -  -89 

Our  Lady  of  the  Chair,                    -           -           -  90 

Between  the  Lights,         -            -           -            -  -      94 

The  Beggar's  Prayer,             ....  95 

A  Mother's  Rebuke,          -            -           -           -  -      97 

The  Bird's  Angelus,    ...             -            .  98 

A  Canzonet  to  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes,             -  -      99 

The  Sisters,      --..._  100 

The  Statue  of  Saint  Joseph,     .            .            .  -     102 

A  Tryst  with  the  Flowers,             -            -           -  105 


CONTENTS.  xiii 


Hymn    for    the    Confraternity    of  Our    Lady    of 

Mount  Carmel,           -            -  -           -           .      107 

Purest  of  the  Pure,  -           -           .  -           .            108 

Song  of  Saint  Gertrude,             -  -           -           -      no 

Tribute  of  the  Months  to  Mary,  -  -           -            m 


APPENDIX. 

May  Carols,            -           -           -            -  -           -      T17 

Glorious  Mother!   from  High  Heaven,  -           -            117 

Awake,  Q  SMILING  May!    -           -           -  -      118 

Queen  of  the  Skies  !   -           -           -  -           -            120 

'Tis  the  Month  of  our  Mother,          -  -           -      121 

As  the  gentle  Spring  uncloses,       -  -           -            123 
Blessed  are  we  as  the  Children  of  a  Mother,       -      124 

The  Crowning  of  the  Queen,          -  -           -            126 

The  Cannon  in  the  Convent  Grounds,  -           -      129 


TO 


MARY  CONCEIVED  WITHOUT  SIN, 


"Crowned  with  Stars," 


AND    SITTING     AT     THE     RIGHT    HAND    OF    HER    DIVINE 
SON    IN    HEAVEN. 


I. 

Would  I  were  a  favored  minstrel 

In  thy  service  never  mute, 
But  with  voice  of  praise,  Madonna, 

Tender  as  a  lover's  lute, 
Singing,  through  the  ages  hoary, 

(Like  a  Minnesinger  bold,) 
Legends  of  thy  love  and  glory 

To  a  harp  of  pearl  and  gold. 

II. 

Would  that  prayer  and  fast  and  vigil 
Made  my  soul  as  white  as  snow, 

And  unto  my  hand  were  given 
Brush  of  Fra  Angelico, — 
14 


TO    MARY.  15 


Pencil  of  the  tonsured  artist, 

Sketching  what  his  soul  was  shown 

In  those  hours  of  purest  rapture, 
When  he  walked  with  God,  alone ! 

III. 

Minstrel,  —  I  would  sing  such  roundels 

Of  thy  mercy,  Mother  sweet, 
They  should  sweep  the  wide  world  over, 

Drawing  myriads  to  thy  feet. 
Artist,  —  I  would  paint  such  pictures 

Of  thy  regal  loveliness. 
Saints  would  kneel,  entranc'd  before  them. 

Sinners  would  thy  beauty  bless. 

IV. 

But  thou  wilt  not  scorn.  Madonna, 

Even  little  songs  like  mine: 
Little  robins,  singing  near  thee. 

Join  the  nightingales  divine; 
Little  pens  which  spread  thy  praises, 

Angels  dip  in  golden  light. 
Till  the  rudest  stylus  glitters. 

Like  a  jewel,  in  thy  sight ! 

V. 

And  upon  our  lives.  Madonna, 
In  our  virtues,  pure  and  fair. 


l6  TO    MARY. 

We  may  limn  thy  virgin  graces, 
Like  a  vision  in  the  air: 

For  the  artist,  Faith,  a  greater 
Than  the  Fra  Angelico, 

Sets  the  easel,  blends  the  colors. 
Bids  thine  image  in  us  glow ! 


(> 


CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

"  And  there  appeared  a  great  wonder  in  the  heaven^  a  Woman 
clothed  with  the  sun,  and  the  moon  under  her  feet^  and  on  her 
head  a  crown  of  twelve  stars'' — Apoc.  xii.  i. 


STAR   THE    FIRST:    PURITY. 

THE    IMMACULATE  CONCEPTION  OF   THE    BLESSED    VIR- 
GIN   MA.RY. 

"  Thou  art  all  fair  ^  my  Beloved^  and  there  is  no  spot  in  thee^ — Cant.  iv.  7. 

I. 

'Tis  born  of  the  earliest  snows, 

Of  the  freshest  and  purest  of  snows, — 

Leaping  out  of  December's  bleak,  pitiless  breast, 

Like  a  lovely,  miraculous  rose, 

It  blesses  the  world,  as  it  blows. 

II. 

So  full  of  a  fragrant  delight, 
So  fraught  with  a  gracious  design, — 
Around  it,  God's  promise  to  Adam  of  old 
With  the  tears  of  poor  Judah,  combine 
In  a  rainbow  of  beauty  divine ! 
3  17 


CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 


III. 

Fill  up  the  bright  vases  with  flowers, 
Let  millions  of  tapers  shine  out ; 
And  the  shrines  of  our  Lady,  conceived  without  sin, 
With  the  hosts  of  her  children  devout, 
Be  tenderly  girdled  about. 

IV. 

While  laces  and  jewels  are  spread, 
And  her  lovers  the  hot-house  are  robbing, — 
The  old  organ  swells  thro'  the  listening  aisles. 
Like  a  great  heart,  in  unison  throbbing. 
With  the  hymn  that  the  singers  are  sobbing. 

V. 

Far  back  in  the  centuries  gray. 

Where  the  Eden  of  hope  disappears, 

God  struck  the  grand  chord  on  the  organ  of  Faith, 

Which  should  sound  through  the  wailing  and  tears 

Of  thousands  and  thousands  of  years. 

VI. 

Which  should  echo  through  Heaven,  the  blest, 
Which  should  tremble  thro'  Hades,  the  dread, 
"  The  seed  of  the  woman  shall  vanquish  her  foe  ^ 
And  the  heel  of  the  woman  shall  tread 
On  the  serpent* s  victorious  head!  " 


PURITY.  19 


VII. 


How  the  dim,  depths  of  Limbo  were  stirred 

With  the  thrill  of  a  coming  translation ! 

While  the  patriarchs  leaned  o'er  its  ramparts  of  gloom 

To  watch  with  serene  expectation, 

For  the  Eve  of  the  new  dispensation. 

VIII. 

Foreshadowed  by  yearning  desires, 

Sought  after  with  tear-darkened  eyes. 

What  dawn  was  there  ever  for  Israel's  night, — 

What  light  for  her  threatening  skies. 

Till  this  star  of  the  morn  should  arise  ? 

IX. 

And  when  in  the  fulness  of  time. 

The  Queen  without  sceptre  or  crown. 

Lay  hidden  in  the  bosom  of  Joachim's  spouse, — 

How  tenderly  Heaven  looked  down 

On  that  poor  little  Syrian  town  ! 

X. 

No  jewel  on  Caesar's  broad  brow, 

No  gem  on  the  throat  of  his  bride, 

Could  vie  with  that  marvellous  Pearl  of  great  price, 

For  which  princes  and  prophets  have  sighed, 

And  which  Anna  rejoices  to  hide. 


20  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

XI. 

Oh  !  virginal  babe,  yet  unborn, 
So  spotless  without  and  within. 
The  first  whom  the  world,  since  creation,  beheld, 

Conceived  without  shadow  of  sin, — 

How  vast  has  thy  privilege  been! 

XII. 

Ah  !  it  stirs  us  to  read  of  the  hour 

When  Cyril,  the  patriarch  glorious. 

Proclaimed  thee,  dear  Lady,  the  Mother  of  God, 

As  Virgin  and  Mother,  victorious 

O'er  the  scoffs  of  the  guilty  Nestorius ! 

XIII. 

Ah !  it  thrills  us  to  think  of  the  scene 
When  the  doors  of  the  church  were  thrown  wide. 
And  Cyril,  with  hundreds  of  bishops,  came  forth 
To  stand  on  the  steps,  side  by  side, 

While  the  multitude  shouted  and  cried. 

XIV. 

Yet  why  should  we  envy  that  throng 

The  glad  proclamation  they  heard  ? 
Though  Ephesus  fell  on  its  knees,  and  throughout 
The  dense  crowd  not  a  finger  was  stirred. 

Lest  their  ears  should  miss  hearing  a  word ; 


PURITY.  21 


XV. 


Why  envy  those  men  of  the  past  ? 

When  we  who  are  true  to  our  Queen, 

Have  heard  in  this  age,  our  own  Vicar  of  Christ 

Proclaim  her  conceived  without  sin, 

Without  stain  of  original  sin  ! 

XVI. 

Dear  dogma  !  by  Mary  more  prized 

Than  the  title  of  Cyril's  defense,— 

May  it  prove  a  sweet  rest  to  our  sin-wearied  hearts, 
Like  a  sun-lighted  valley  immense, 
Where  our  holiest  hopes  pitch  their  tents  ! 

XVII. 

No  fear  if  this  Shepherdess  fair 

Shall  shelter  the  flocks,  as  of  old  ; 

Her  voice  is  as  tender  as  bells  through  the  .dusk, 

And  the  wolf  may  bay  out  in  the  cold. 

While  she  gathers  the  sheep  in  her  fold. 

XVIII. 

Keep  us  close  at  thy  feet,  blessed  Queen  ! 

The  night  lowers  sullen  and  chill, — 
Immaculate  Lady  !  conceived  without  sin. 
When  thy  sheep  shiver  down  the  dark  hill. 

Ah  !  guide  them  and  succor  them  still ! 


22  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 


STAR  THE  SECOND:     SIMPLICITY. 

HER    NATIVITY. 

'''' Whosoever  shall  humble  himself  as  this  little  child^  he  is  the  greatest  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven J'^—?)T.  Matthew,  xviii,  4. 

(Chorus  of  Angels  in  the  Chamber  of  St.  Anne)  ; 

*'  Bring  ye  a  cradle  of  the  purest  gold, 
Garnished  with  jewels,  rarest  of  the  rare, 
Linens  and  laces,  fairest  of  the  fair, 

Breathing  of  perfumes  from  their  ev'ry  fold. 
Unto  the  mother  of  the  Undefiled, 
Bring  ye  your  offerings  for  her  new-born  child, 
Mistress  of  earth  and  skies  !  " 

(Saint  Gabriel,  lifting  the  infant  Mary  in  his  arms)  : 

"  Nay,  spirits,  nay, 
Enamored  is  this  child  of  Poverty, 
And  sweet  Simplicity,  the  special  seal 
Of  Him  who  shall  be  born  of  her  one  day. 
Children  of  men !  your  gifts  to  her  must  be 
Hearts  pure  and  humble,  rich  with  charity. 

Bring  ye  these  treasures  to  her  cradle.     Kneel ! 
And  round  about  her  chant  your  welcoming  lay!" 


SIMPLICITY.  23 


^^% 


(Chorus  of  Humanity,  prostrate  before  the  new-born 

Queen)  : 

"  Daughter  of  a  mighty  Father, 
Lily  in  the  thorny  way, 
Angel  forms  around  thee  gather, 
Macula  non  est  in  te  ! 

"  Mother  of  the  Son  and  Saviour, 
Of  the  Truth,  the  Life,  the  Way, 
Guide  our  footsteps,  calm  our  passions. 
Macula  non  est  in  te  I 

"  Spouse  of  the  eternal  Spirit, 

Blossom  which  will  ne'er  decay. 
Let  us  thy  dear  love  inherit. 
Macula  non  est  in  te  I 

*'  Daughter,  Mother,  Spouse  of  Heaven  ! 
Listen  to  our  earnest  lay. 
Sweetest  gift  to  man  e'er  given. 
Macula  non  est  in  te  I 


"  Here  on  earth  we  see  but  darkly, 
0    ^ut  we  hail  afar  the  day 
When  we'll  see  thee  in  thy  splendor, 
Macula  non  est  in  te  ! 


24  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 


STAR  THE  THIRD:     GENEROSITY. 

HER    PRESENTATION    IN    THE    TEMPLE. 

^Harken^  oh!  daughter^  and  see  and  incline  thy  ear^  and  forget  thy  people^ 
and  thy  father  s  house. ^'' — Ps.:  XLiv,  ii. 

The  light  slants  down  the  Temple  stair, 
Upon  an  aged  couple  there, 
With  quiet  eyes  and  silvery  hair. 

Between  them,  like  a  rosebud  bright, 
And  fresh  and  sweet,  a  child  in  white. 
On  either  side  a  hand  holds  tight. 

She  hath  but  three  sweet  summers  told, 
This  little  girl  with  locks  of  gold, 
Between  her  parents,  grave  and  old. 

Yet  round  her,  hidden  angels  say : 
"  Gloria  tibi^Domine! 
Our  sovereign  Queen  is  here  to-day !  " 

And  while  she  marvels  at  the  hymn. 
Sweet  Anne  and  gentle  Joachim 
Conduct  her  up  the  staircase  dim. 

The  Golden  Gate  is  open  wide, 
And  in  and  out,  a  surging  tide, 
The  groups  of  strangers,  ceaseless,  glide. 


GENEROSITY.  25 


But  no  one  heeds  the  aged  pair, 

Or  the  infant,  with  her  sunny  hair, — 

(God's  favorite  friends  forgotten  fare.) 

And  few  behold  the  high-priest  stand 

In  his  glitt'ring  vestments,  old  and  grand, — 

The  open  parchment  in  his  hand ; 

Save  little  Mary,  brave  and  sweet, 
Who  kneels  before  the  Rabbi's  feet, 
And  lisps  the  words  his  lips  repeat. 

She  doth  not  say  :  "  O  gracious  King  ! 

I'm  but  a  little  trembling  thing, 

Too  weak  to  quit  my  mother's  wing !" 

She  doth  not  plead  :  "  O  Lord  divine  ! 

Forbear,  until  I  taste  the  wine 

Of  future  joys  which  may  be  mine  !" 

Nor  still,  with  cheeks  and  eyelids  wet  : 
"  My  harvest  is  not  ripened  yet. 
My  zeal  is  mastered  by  regret !" 

But,  firm  and  fre'e,  and  strong  of  nerve, 
(While  radiant  smiles  the  bright  lips  curve,) 
"Take  all,  O  God!  without  reserve  !" 

And  Anna  feels  her  heart  grow  weak. 

And  Joachim  is  pale  of  cheek, 

As  the  maiden,  rising,  turns  to  speak. 


2^  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

She  stands  between  them,  like  a  lamb ; 

She  gives  to  each  a  tiny  palm  ; 

She  says,  "  Farewell !" — in  accents  calm. 

And  then  it  seems  as  dark  as  night, 
As  the  Rabbi  takes  the  child  in  white, 
And  leads  her  slowly  from  their  sight. 

O  latticed  doors  !  which  ope  and  close 

Upon  that  tiny  virgin  rose, — 

Ye  could  not  hide  her,  if  ye  chose  ! 

O  Temple  walls  !  which  stretch  away. 
Majestic,  in  the  golden  day, — 
Ye  cannot  shut  her  in  for  aye  ! 
For  lo  !  her  glory  shall  flame  forth 
Throughout  the  South,  throughout  the  North, 
And  in  the  West — where  God  is  wroth. 

And  through  the  East  shall  ring  her  name. 

And  Mahomet  himself  proclaim. 

In  these  mysterious  words,  her  fame  : 

"  Speak,  Koran  !  tell  how  Mary  wise 
Entered  the  temple  at  sunrise, 
And  veiled  herself  from  mortal  eyes  !  " 

O  Joachim  !  O  Anna  mild  ! 
O  parents  of  the  undefiled  ! 
Resign  with  joy  that  chosen  child. 

For  safe  behind  the  latticed  screen. 
She  shall  grow  up,  by  men  unseen, 
A  lily  pure,  and  most  serene. 


RECOLLECTION.  27 


And  angels  shall  her  playmates  be, 
To  guard  the  maiden  on  whose  knee 
Shall  bloom  th'  Incarnate  Deity. 

And  after  her,  the  prophets  sing. 

Shall  eager  virgins,  following, 

Be  brought  with  gladness  to  the  King. 


STAR   THE   FOURTH:    RECOLLECTION. 

HER    HIDDEN    LIFE    IN    THE    TEMPLE. 

"  My  Beloved  to  me  and  I  to  Hun,  ivho  feedeth  among  the  lilies.     Till  the 
day  break  and  the  shadows  retire.-'— Cm^t:.,  ii,  16,  17. 

I. 

Come  into  the  wide  old  corridor. 

And  see  who  sits  in  the  silence  there. 
Where  the  sunshine  flushes  the  marble  floor. 
And  floats,  like  a  halo,  in  the  air ; 
Draw  near,  O  children  !  noiselessly. 
Lest  your  step  should  break  her  reverie. 

II. 

The  fair,  sweet  child  in  the  dark  old  chair. 
The  lovely  spinner,  small  and  slight. 

They  have  laid  a  veil  on  her  golden  hair, 
And  her  robe  and  her  mantle  are  not  bright 


28  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

With  the  gorgeous  hues  or  the  trappings  rare 
The  royal  virgins  of  Sion  wear. 

III. 

But  the  spindle  rests  in  her  slender  hands, 

Emblem  of  labor  !  and  on  her  right, 
A  crystal  vase,  full  of  lilies,  stands, 

Their  petals  warm  with  the  morning  light ; 
And  lo !  at  her  feet,  dear  children,  look  ! 
Are  the  basket  of  work  and  the  open  book. 

IV. 

How  silent  she  sits !    She  does  not  spin. 
She  does  not  read, —  but  on  her  knee. 
Her  little  hand  with  the  thread  therein. 
Rests,  like  a  snowfiake,  tranquilly ; 
And  her  liquid  eyes  are  hidden  quite 
By  the  drooping  lashes,  long  and  bright. 

V. 

Child  of  the  Temple  !  little  Maid ! 

With  such  sweet  silence  cloister'd  round, 
What  vision  of  light  hath  thy  spindle  stay'd  ? 
What  glorious  dream  thy  fancy  bound  ? 
No  lily  set  in  its  crystal  vase 
Is  half  so  lovely  as  is  thy  face ! 

VI. 

Behind  thee,  through  the  open  door, 
The  peaceful  country  stretches  green, 


RECOLLECTION.  29 


And  breezes  blow,  and  sunbeams  pour 
Their  glad  effulgence  on  the  scene  ; 

For  the  hush  of  the  early  morning  sleeps 
On  the  dewy  valleys  and  wooded  steeps. 

VII. 

She  does  not  rise  to  look  abroad, 

She  does  not  turn,  nor  stir,  nor  speak, 
But  she  feels  the  wind,  like  the  breath  of  God, 
Lifting  the  veil  from  her  virgin  cheek ; 
And  the  downcast  eyes  a  Something  see 
Hidden,  my  children,  from  you  and  me. 

VIII. 

Is  it  the  dawn  of  that  radiant  day. 

Which,  brighter  than  this,  in  her  future  waits  ? — 
When,  up  through  the  snows,  she  shall  take  her  way 
To  the  same  old  Temple's  beautiful  gates, — 
While  a  lovely  Babe  on  her  bosom  lies. 
The  light  of  the  Godhead  in  His  eyes ! 

IX. 

Or  is  it  the  close  of  that  later  day, 

When  the  streets  of  the  city  are  growing  dim  ? 
And  a  child  has  been  lost,  the  people  say. 

And  His  Mother  and  father  are  seeking  Him. 
O  blind  Judea !  thou  couldst  not  see 
That  thou  wert  the  lost  one,  and  not  He ! 


30  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

X. 

Or,  maybe,  her  dreaming  heart  is  haunted 

With  the  view  of  a  Mountain,  later  scaled, 
Where  a  rough  old  Cross  in  the  gloom  is  planted, 
And  the  sacred  Victim  upon  it  nailed ; 
And,  maybe,  she  sees  and  knows  the  face 
Of  the  veiled  Madonna  at  its  base  ! 

xr. 

O  vast  and  wonderful  mystery  ! 

Laid  open  and  bare  to  those  childish  eyes ; 
O  dolor,  deep  as  an  infinite  sea, 

Where  she,  dying,  lives, — where  she,  living,  dies  ! 
For  lo !  the  spinner  who  sits  in  the  sun, 

And  the  Mother  who  stands  by  the  Cross, — are 
one  ! 

XII. 

^''Veni!'"  she  hears  the  Spirit  call, 
"  Arnica  mea^  cohimba  mea  !  " 
— Through  the  Summer  silence  they  rise  and  fall 
Those  last  sweet  words,  ''''  formosa  mea  !  " 
And  her  heart,  in  its  generous  fervor,  pants 
•For  the  cross  and  the  nails  and  the  dripping 
lance. 

XIII. 

''''Veni  f  she  hears  it,  nearer,  tremble, 
"  Arise,  O  love  !  and  quit  thy  cell ; 


RECOLLECTION.  3 1 


Already  in  the  courts  assemble 
The  noblest  youths  of  Israel ; 
And  princely  suitors  there  await 
Thine  entrance  at  the  inner  gate." 

XIV. 

Dear  Mater  Admirabilis  ! 

Ere  the  high-priest  leads  thee  forth  to  stand 
Where  Joseph  waits  'mid  the  throng  in  peace, 
•  The  blossoming  staff  in  his  aged  hand, 

Ah!   turn  from  thy  lilies,  thy  work,  thy  book. 
And  gladden  thy  children  with  one  fond  look. 

XV. 

O  Dove  !  in  the  clefts  of  the  great  Rock  hidden, 

O  shy,  small  Dove !  that  dwellest  apart. 
The  tears  spring  into  our  eyes  unbidden. 
And  a  strange  sweet  sadness  stirs  the  heart, 
When  the  light  of  thy  purity  shines  within 
On  the  dark  abyss  of  our  want  and  sin  ! 

XVI. 

While  our  hearts  still  glow,  while  our  eyes  still  glisten, 

Speak,  little  Queen  !  and  we  hold  our  breath. 
To  kneel  at  thy  footstool  here,  and  listen 
As  our  dear  Lord  listened  in  Nazareth ; 

And  looking,  with  trust,  in  thy  tender  eyes. 
We  shall  see  where  the  path  to  His  sweet  will 
lies. 


32  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

XVII. 

Sorrow  or  joy — repose  or  laboi  } 

We  dare  not  choose,  if  a  choice  there  be, 
Whether  to  rest  with  our  our  Lord  on  Tabor, 
Or  kneel  by  his  side  in  Gethsemane; 

Whether  with  John  on  His  breast  to  lean, 
Or  carry  His  cross  with  the  Cyrenean. 

XVIII. 

Speak,  little  Queen  !  ere  the  present  flees  us, 

And  tell  us  the  secret  of  the  King, 
The  wish  of  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Je^us, 
On  whom  we  rely,  to  whom  we  cling ; 

Show  but  the  path  of  His  will,  dear  Mother ! 
And  the  hearts  of  thy  children  will  seek  none 
other  ! 


HUMILITY.  33 


STAR  THE  FIFTH:     HUMILITY. 

THE  ANNUNCIATION    OF    THE    ANGEL    GABRIEL    TO  THE 
BLESSED    VIRGIN    MARY. 

''''Behold^  a  virgin  shali  conceive^  and  bear  a  son.''^ — Isaias,  vn,  14. 

(MARY'S  little  room  in  the  COTTAGE  OF  JOSEPH,  AT  NAZARETH. 

MIDNIGHT.) 

I. 

Angelus  Domini  nuntiavit  Maria. 

The  sweetest  cell  that  e'er  hath  been 
Haunt  of  celestial  bees, — 
And,  in  its  midst,  upon  her  knees. 

With  folded  hands  serene, 

The  virgin  mistress  of  the  place. 

So  rare  and  fair  a  maid, 

The  entering  angel  is  afraid 
To  look  upon  her  face. 

*'  Hail,  Mary,  full  of  grace;  the  Lord 
Is  with  thee," — (in  her  nest 
The  dove  is  troubled).     "Thou  art  blest 
'Mong  women."     Glorious  word  ! 

*'  For  lo  !    in  virgin  purity. 

Thou  shalt  conceive  a  Son, 

5 


34  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

And  bring  Him  forth.     The  Holy  One, 
Whose  name  shall  Jesus  be. 

"Son  of  th'  Most  High,  whom  all  adore, 
Blest  heir  of  David's  throne, — 
In  Jacob's  house.  He,  long-foreshown. 
Shall  reign  for  evermore  !  "     *     *     * 

— The  lily  trembles  in  its  vase  ; 
Angels  forestalling  men, 
Cry  out  again,  again,  again, 
"  Hail,  Mary,  full  of  grace !  " 

II. 

'■''Ecce  ancilla  Dotnini  !  " 

She  did  not  say  to  Gabriel, 

With  mild  but  most  majestic  mien, 
"  Behold  the  Mother  of  thy  Lord ! 
Behold  thy  sovereign  Queen !  " 

But  with  her  lovely  virgin  head. 
Like  some  fair  golden  flower  bent, 
"  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  !  " 
She  said,  in  meek  consent. 

III. 

JSl  Verbum  caro  factum  est. 

From  out  the  deep  exquisite  eyes. 
Pure  eyes  of  azure-gray, 


HUMILITY.  35 


There  flows,  in  some  mysterious  way, 
The  radiance  of  the  skies. 

And  all  the  chamber  flooded  bright, 

Is  full  of  perfume  sweet, 

The  kneeling  Maid,  from  head  to  feet, 
Is  bathed  in  that  great  light ! 

She  holds  Him  fast,  she  clasps  Him  close, 
Her  God,  her  Spouse,  her  Son, — 
The  little  spikenard's  scent  hath  won 

The  King  from  His  repose. 

The  hope  of  prophets,  long  foretold, 

The  patriarchs'  desire, 

Hath  come  to  cast  His  glowing  fire 
Thro'  realms  dark  and  cold. 

Soon  shall  Thy  hidden  blossoms  bloom, 

Sweet  Flower  of  Jesse's  rod  ! 

We  worship  Thee,  Incarnate  God  ! 
In  Mary's  spotless  womb. 


S^  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

STAR  THE  SIXTH:    FRATERNAL  CHARITY. 

HER     VISITATION    TO    SAINT    ELIZABETH. 

'"'' And  Mary  rising  up  in  those  days^  went  into  the  viountainous  country 
with  haste  ^  into  a  city  of  Judah.  And  she  entered  into  the  house  of 
Zachary^  and  saluted  Elizabeth.'''' — St.  Luke,  i,  39,  40. 

Where  streams  the  sunlight  through  the  vine-wreath- 
ed door, 
And  mountain  breezes  through  the  chamber  blow, 
A  spinning-stool  is  placed  upon  the  floor. 
The  wool  upon  the  distaff,  white  as  snow ; 

The  while,  the  shining  spindle  deftly  spread, — 
A  gray-haired  woman  sits  and  twists  the  thread. 

Save  for  the  south  wind's  soft  and  ceaseless  hum — 
The  house  was  silent.     In  the  window-nook. 
The  woman's  spouse  sits  motionless  and  dumb, 
Reading  the  pages  of  an  ancient  book  ; 

But  both  the  furrowed  faces  glimmer  bright, 
As  with  the  glow  of  some  great  coming  light. 

A  shadow  falls  across  the  sunny  floor. 
The  air  grows  fragrant  with  the  lily's  breath  ; 
— A  slender  form  hath  entered  at  the  door, 
A  glad  voice  trembles  forth, — "  Elizabeth !  " 

And,  with  the  sunshine  on  her  outstretched  hands, 
Greeting  her  cousin, — gracious  Mary  stands. 


FRATERNAL    CHARITY.  37 


Lo  !  at  her  voice  the  aged  face  doth  bloom 
With  girlish  beauty.     Filled  with  heavenly  joy, 
The  Baptist  leaps  within  his  mother's  womb, 
And,  hidden,  hails  the  Virgin's  blessed  Boy. 
"  Oh  !  whence  is  this  supreme  felicity  ? 
The  mother  of  my  Lord  doth  visit  me  !  .  .  .  . 

"  Blessed  art  thou  that  hast  believ'd  !  "  —  but  lo  ! 
Like  sparkling  torrents  from  the  mountain  pour'd, 
The  Virgin's  words  of  love  and  praise  outflow, 
"  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,  the  Lord !  " 
The  lifted  eyes  are  radiant  and  moist, 
"  In  God,  my  Saviour,  hath  my  soul  rejoiced  ! 

"  He  hath  looked  down  upon  the  lowliness 
Of  His  poor  hand-maid  ;  and,  henceforth,  behold  ! 
The  nations  of  the  earth  shall  call  me  bless'd; 
For  He,  the  strong  and  mighty  One  of  old,— 
All-holy  is  His  name,  the  Deity, 
Hath  done  great  things,  Elizabeth,  to  me ! 

"  Thro'  all  the  generations,  be  it  known. 
To  them  that  fear  Him,  is  His  mercy  sweet ; 
Lo  !  in  His  arm  He  hath  His  power  shown. 
The  proud  dispersing  in  their  hearts'  conceit ; 

He  hath  cast  down  the  mighty  from  their  thrones. 
And  lifted  up  the  poor  and  lowly  ones. 

"  And  He  the  hungry  hath  with  good  things  filled, 
Whilst,  empty.  He  hath  sent  the  rich  away ; 


38  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

And,  mindful  of  His  mercy,  hath  upheld 

His  servant  Israel, —  as  He  did  say 
Of  old  unto  our  fathers,  failing  never. 
To  Abraham  and  to  his  seed  forever!  " 
****** 

— The  thrilling  tones  are  hush'd  :  the  drooping  veil 
Half-hides  the  beautiful  transfigured  face; 
The  white-haired  Zachary  stands  mute  and  pale. 
Watching  his  thoughtful  spouse,  who  turns  to  place, 
Her  spinning-stool:  — the  distaff  'gins  to  stir. 
And  Mary  meekly  ministers  to  her. 


STAR  THE  SEVENTH:  POVERTY. 

HER    MATERNITY. 

And  she  brought  fortJt  her  first-born  son,  and  ivraj)ped  him  up  in  swad- 
dling-clothes^ and  laid  him  in  a  manger.'''' — St.  Luke,  ii,  7 

The  stable-door  is  very  low. 

And   mean    and    small, —  stoop   down,    proud 
head  ! 
Nor  dare,  with  thought  of  self,  to  go 

Into  that  humble,  roadside  shed. 

No  light  save  that  of  starlit  skies, 
And  Joseph's  lantern,  old  and  dim  ; 

The  Babe  within  the  manger  lies. 

While  Mary,  kneeling,  worships  Him. 


POVERTY.  39 


The  poor  dumb  beasts,  tho'  void  of  faith 
And  reason,  stare  at  Him  with  awe ; 

Upon  His  face,  their  soft,  warm  breath 
Is  blown  across  the  coarse,  sweet  straw. 

And  Joseph  near  the  manger  kneels, 

And  clasps  his  roughened  hands  in  prayer  ; 

And  looking  on  the  Infant,  feels 
That  God  Omnipotent  is  there. 

Dear  Mary  !  ere  the  shepherd  brings 
His  bleating  lambkins  through  the  cold  ; 

And  ere  they  come,  the  Eastern  kings. 
With  frankincense  and  myrrh  and  gold, — 

Oh  !  may  we,  by  Saint  Joseph  led, 

Not  formally,  nor  as  a  stranger. 
But  keeping  close  to  Jesus,  spread 

Our  Christmas  gifts  before  the  manger. 

And  may  the  love  we  proffer  there 

Be  pure  as  shepherds'  offerings ; 
More  precious  than  the  treasures  rare 

Reserved  for  Oriental  kings. 

And  when  the  world's  rude  Bethlehem 
Shall  on  thy  dear  ones  close  the  door, — 

Oh  !  may  our  hearts  make  room  for  them, 
And  Christ  therein  be  born  once  more ! 


40  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 


STAR   THE    EIGHTH:    OBEDIENCE. 

HER    PURIFICATION, 

"  And  after  the  days  of  he.r  purification^  according  to  the  law  of  Moses, 
were  accomplished^  they  carried  him  to  Jerusalem  to  present  him  to  the 
Lord.  .  .  .  .  A  nd  to  ofFer  a  sacrifice,  according  as  it  is  written  in 
the  law  of  the  Lord,  a  pair  of  turtle-doves,  or  two  young  pigeons.'''' — 
St.  Luke,  ii,  22-24. 

No  sound  in  the  hush  of  the  Temple  is  heard 
Save  the  coo  of  the  Babe  in  His  murmurings  sweet, 
And  the  coo  of  the  doves  at  Simeon's  feet, — 
Bird  answering  bird. 

So  girlish  the  look  of  the  Mother,  so  bless'd 
With  ethereal  beauty  her  exquisite  face  ! 
She  lifts  up  the  dear  little  Babe  to  His  place 
On  Simeon's  breast. 

And  her  smile  is  so  graciously  grave  ;  and  so  mild 
Is  the  bearing  of  Joseph,  —  though  silver  his  head, 
The  glory  of  youth  o'er  his  visage  is  shed 
When  he  looks  on  the  Child. 

The  doves  in  their  basket  of  osiers  complain 
And  flutter  their  wings  :  but  the  Dove  all  divine 
Lies  mute  in  the  arms  of  the  Saint,  gives  no  sign 
Of  emotion  or  pain  ; 


OBEDIENCE.  4 1 


Save  to  turn  on  the  Prophet  those  wonderful  Eyes, 
Those  fathomless  wells  of  perpetual  light, — 
The  sun  and  the  moon,  and  the  stars  of  the  night, 
Were  dark  to  those  Eyes  ! 

And  flush'd  with  the  glow  of  Eternity's  dawn, 
From  Simeon's  lip  bursts  the  anthem  of  faith, — 
The  song  of  the  saint  is  the  sweetest  in  death. 
Like  the  song  of  the  swan. 

He  sees  the  Lord's  Christ !     It  hath  pass'd  his  desires 

To  press  his  Viaticum  close  to  his  heart  : 
^''Nunc  dimittis  !  "  he  sings,  "  O,  God  !  bid  me  depart. 
Let  me  sleep  with  my  sires  !  " 

But  swift  through  the  glorious  swell  of  the  song. 
There  trembles  a  warning,  a  sad  minor  chord, 
"  O,  Mary  !  thy  soul  shall  be  pierced  with  a  sword 
Of  sorrow  and  wrong  \  " 

And  lo !  ere  the  canticle  dies  on  his  ear. 

Saint  Joseph  looks  pale  ;  but  the  Mother's  sweet  face 
Shows  bright  as  the  Babe's  in  her  loving  embrace, 
— And  Saint  Anna  draws  near. 


42  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 


STAR   THE    NINTH:     DETACHMENT. 

THE    FLIGHT    INTO    EGYPT. 

'"'' And  Joseph  rising  up^  took  the  child  and  His  tnother  by  nighty  and  retired 
into  Egypty — St.  Matthew,  ii,  14. 

I. 

The  silver  sands  are  'round  them  spread, 

A  palm-tree  drooping  overhead  ; 

The  long  fair  twilight  melting  gray 

Into  the  night, —  lo  !  far  away, 

'Mid  faint  pink  clouds,  where  sank  the  sun, 

The  stars  rise,  trembling,  one  by  one. 

II. 

It  is  not  safe  to  rest  too  near 
This  well  of  water  sparkling  clear, 
Whose  sides  of  ancient  desert  stone 
With  creeping  plants  are  overgrown  ; 
For  when  at  night  the  beasts  come  down 
From  desert  jungles,  dank  and  brown, — 
With  many  a  roar  and  plaintive  scream. 
Like  troubled  phantoms  in  a  dream. 
They  haunt  the  cisterns  cool  and  fair, — 
And  while  they  slake  their  fever  there, 
Let  him  who  slumbers  near,  beware  I 


DETACHMENT.  43 


III. 

So  Joseph  to  the  water's  brink, 
Leads  down  the  tired  beast  to  drink ; 
While  Mary,  on  the  upper  mound, 
Sinks  lightly  on  the  tawny  ground, 
And  loosening  the  clinging  folds 
Of  her  long  cloak,  adoring,  holds 
The  Holy  Infant  to  her  breast. 
-Sweet  wild  Bird  !  from  that  sacred  nest, 
It  looks  up  to  the  heaven  of  love 
In  Mary's  face, — and,  like  a  dove. 
It  sweetly  coos  ;  the  while  her  hands 
Loosen  Its  heavy  swaddling-bands  ; 
And  o'er  Its  rosy  limbs,  let  flow 
Pure  waters  from  the  well  below. 
And  when,  refreshed.  It  sleeps,  she  lays 
It  on  the  sand,  and  kneels  and  prays. 

IV. 

Mysterious  vision  !  clear  and  high. 
The  stars,  like  jewels,  stud  the  sky; 
The  slender,  crescent  moon  sails  up 
Inverted,  like  a  silver  cup; 
And  not  a  sound  the  silence  breaks 
Save  when  the  giant  palm-tree  shakes 
Its  ripe  fruit  down. 

Oh !  sight  sublime. 
Lord  of  Eternity  and  Time, — 


44  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

The  Infinite,  the  Ever-Wise, 
Here  on  the  sands  a  Baby  lies ; 
And  the  unsleeping  Godhead  seems 
An  Infant  wrapt  in  deepest  dreams  ! 
Sleep,  blessed  Mary  !  On  the  grass, 
Saint  Joseph  slumbers  near  the  ass  ; 
The  night  is  safe ;  'neath  moon  and  star, 
The  hordes  of  Herod  fade  afar  ; 
And  white  with  splendors,  glory-given, 
The  air  with  angel's  wings  is  riven, — 
For  God  is  here,  and  this  is  heaven  ! 


STAR  THE  TENTH:     FIDELITY. 

THE    HIDDEN    LIFE    OF  THE    BLESSED    MOTHER    AT 
NAZARETH. 

*M  nd  He  went  down  with  theju^  and  caitte  to  Nazareth  ;  and  was  subject 
to  them.  And  His  mother  kept  all  these  words  in  her  heart.'"— ^i. 
Luke,  ii,  Si. 

Her  wistful  eyes  are  on  Him  fixed, 

The  boyish  hand  in  Joseph's  press'd, 
So  close  !  the  foster-father  feels 

The  heart-throbs  in  his  pupil's  breast ; 
And  ever  as  that  burning  heart 

Sends  up  fresh  flames  of  eager  love, — 
A  newer,  sweeter  smile  of  bliss. 

Illumes  the  earnest  face  above. 


f 


FIDELITY.  45 

Her  needle  shining  in  her  hand, 

The  Blessed  Mother  sits  apart, 
And  watches,  as  she,  silent,  works. 
The  Treasure  of  her  sinless  heart. 
— The  little  room  is  pure  and  cool, 

The  sunbeams  through  the  lattice  pour; 
/"""  They  sparkle  over  Joseph's  tools,  .jt- 

They  gild  the  shavings  on  the  floorn        .  .^  ]  r\.^A//ky^ 

They  glitter  on  the  ancient  sconce 

That  hangs  above  the  Mother's  seat ; 
And,  touching,  turn  to  golden  bronze 
Tk€^earthen  pitcher  at  her  feet : 
^^nd,  with  that  halo  on  His  hair. 

The  Boy  hath  cast  His  tools  aside, 
Jl  _  And  stands,  as  if  absorbed  in  prayer, 

His  slender  arms  extended  wide. 

Is  it  the  shadow  of  the  Cross 
o  Which  falls  athwart  that  gentle  Face ; 

^  Is  it  a  spectral  crown  of  thorns, 

^     Which  on  that  blessed  Brow  hath  place } 

— The  Mother  rises  from  her  chair, 

To  hide,  in  household  tasks,  her  fears ; 
Her  thoughtful  cheek  is  lily-fair. 
Her  tender  eyes  are  full  of  tears. 

Ah !  who  would  enter  at  the  door 
Of  this  dear  dwelling-place,  must  be 


^ 


46  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

Assured  that  Mary's  hand  alone 
Can  turn  its  tabernacle-key  ; 

For  busy  Joseph  heedeth  not 
The  pilgrim's  soft  approaching  feet; 

And  Jesus,  kneeling  near  the  spot, 
Is  rapt  in  recollection  sweet. 

But  to  and  fro  the  Mother  goes, 

With  fond  attentive  eye  and  ear, 
She  seeth  what  none  others  see, 

She  heareth  what  none  others  hear. 
And  ever  as-sh6  spreads  the  board. 

Or  sweeps,  or  spins,  or  smooths  the  bed, 
The  loving  looks  of  Christ  the  Lord, 

Upon  her  virgin  face  are  shed. 

For  lo  !  she  bore  Him  in  her  womb  ; 

She  fed  Him  with  her  milk's  pure  wine ; 
She  cradled  Him  upon  her  knee. 

And  wove  His  seamless  robe  divine. 
Her  full  and  perfect  life  is  laid 

Like  dust  beneath  His  royal  feet, — 
The  fountain  sealed  for  Him  alone. 

The  garden  closed  for  His  retreat ! 

No  inspiration  (though  it  were 

The  gentlest  breeze  that  whispereth,) 

E'er  swept  across  her  blessed  soul. 

And  failed  to  sway  her  with  its  breath ; 


FIDELITY.  47 


— y    No  grace,  the  tiniest  of  them  all, 
Was  ever  slighted  or  abused ; 
No  sacrifice,  however  small, 
^       Was  ever  asked,  to  be  refused. 

See,  how  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Christ, 

Delighted,  drinks  these  wonders  in,- 
No  rapine  in  the  holocaust, 

No  trace  of  frailty  or  of  sin  ; 
How  in  an  ecstasy  of  love. 

The  virginal  Humanity 
Beholds  this  Lily  'mid  the  thorns. 

And  revels  in  its  fragrancy  ! 

Draw  nearer  then,  draw  nearer  still, 
•e/O'tired  children  !  tempest-toss'd, 
She  is  t(he  hope  of  desperate  souls. 

She  is\the  refuge  of  the  lost ; 
Cry  out,  Vith  energetic  faith. 

Ask  mighty  graces,  gifts  sublime, 
The  Queen  of  quiet  Nazareth 

Will  grant  each  favor  in  God's  time. 


f 


For  He  hath  cast  into  her  hands. 

Like  l^ow'rs  and  fruits  of  Paradise, 
The  choicest  graces,  rarest  gifts. 

Which  heavenly  wisdom  could  devise ; 
And  folded  on  her  radiant  brow. 

The  kiss  of  peace  and  jubilee  : 
"  Thou  didst  refuse  Me  naught,  below, 

I  can  refuse  naught,  /lere,  to  thee  !  " 


rnOiK 


48  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 


STAR     THE    ELEVENTH:     SELF-IMMOLA.- 

TION. 

HER    DOLORS. 

"  O  all  ye  that  pass  by  the  way,  attend  and  see  if  there  he  sorroiu  like  unto 
my  sorrow  .'^^ — Jerem.,  Lam.,  i,  12. 

(in  the  house  of  ST.  JOHN  THE  EVANGELIST,  ON  THE   FIRST 
GOOD    FRIDAY    NIGHT.) 

I. 

A  low,  wide  room,  dim  with  the  shades  of  night, 

And  silent  as  the  chamber  of  the  dead ; 
A  single  lamp  its  melancholy  light 

Sheds  in  the  midst  :  and  there,  with  muffled  head, 
With  drooping  form,  and  tightly-folded  hands. 
Our  Lady  at  the  little  table  stands. 

IL 

The  strongest  rays  upon  her  face  are  thrown  ; 
Within  her  mantle's  azure  depths  enshrined, 
The  profile,  pure  and  cold  as  carven  stone, 
Against  the  dark  blue  back-ground  is  defined  ; 
The  ashen  lips,  half-open,  as  to  speak; 
A  great  tear  trembling  on  the  oval  cheek. 

in. 

For  lo  !  the  while  she  stands,  and  mutely  mourns. 
Before  her,  on  the  little  table,  lie 


SELF-IMMOLATION.  49 

The  scourge,  the  nails,  the  sponge,  the  crown  of  thorns, 
On  which  the  crimson  Blood  is  scarcely  dry ; 
The  Precious  Blood  that,  but  some  hours  ago, 
Welled  from   the  bruised  heart  of  the  Man  of 
Woe. 

IV. 

Once  more  before  the  Mother's  vision  surge 

The  dreadful  scenes ;  once  more  upon  the  air 
She  hears  the  fierce  sound  of  the  cruel  scourge, — 
She  sees  the  mangled  flesh, —  the  bones  laid  bare; 
The  helpless  Victim  to  the  pillar  bound. 
Meeting  the  lash  with  patience  most  profound. 

V. 

Mark,  how  she  shudders  I  Shouts  of  fiendish  sport 

Break  on  her  ear.    Her  heart  throbs  strong  and  fast. 
The  soldiers,  gathered  in  the  outer  court, 
A  scarlet  cloak  about  her  Son  have  cast ; 

And  on  His  head  have  press  'd  so  sharp  a  crown. 
That  blood  and  tears  His  sacred  face  run  down. 

VI. 

And  forth  they  go,  and  forth  the  Lamb  divine 

Goes  with  them,  bearing  on  His  wounded  back 
The  heavy  cross ;  but  where  the  blood-drops  shine. 
Like  rubies,  in  the  gentle  Suff' rer's  track, — 
The  Mother  follows,  painfully  and  slow, 
Wrapp'd  in  the  mantle  of  her  mighty  woe. 


50  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

VII. 

One  look  He  gives  her, — shaking  back  the  veil 
Of  tangled  hair,  that  'thwart  His  vision  lies, 
He  gazes  in  her  visage,  pure  and  pale, 

With  tend'rest  love  out-leaping  from  His  eyes ; 
One  glance  of  mute,  of  sweet  farewell, — and  then. 
The  blood-stained  tresses  hide  His  face  again. 

VIII. 

And  when  she  next  beholds  It,  It  is  drench'd 
With  sweat  of  agony.     O  pitying  Heaven  ! 
The  blessed  bones  are  from  their  sockets  wrench'd, 
And  thro'  His  hands  and  feet  the  nails  are  driven ; 
And,  high  above  her,  like  a  dove's  sad  note, 
His  dying  moans  adown  the  darkness  float. 

IX. 
Ah !  if  her  loving  hand  could  reach  His  head, 

How  sweet  'twould  be  to  wipe  that  bleeding  Face; 
To  lift  the  dear  Limbs  from  their  bloody  bed, 
And  fold  them  fondly  in  her  close  embrace ; 
Each  open  Wound  to  touch,  and,  bathing,  bless 
With  all  a  mother's  tears  of  tenderness  ! 

X. 

Hark !  'tis  His  voice  :  ^^I  thirst  /  " —  On  such  sweet  lips 
The  purest  dews  of  heav'n  should,  cooling,  fall ! 

Alas  !  alas  !  amid  the  dark  eclipse. 

His  mouth  is  drench'd  with  vinegar  and  gall. 


SELF-IMMOLATION.  5 1 

— Earth's  countless  fountains  cannot  here  afford 
One  draught  of  water  for  their  dying  Lord  ! 

XI. 

The  red  wounds  widen  :  quicker  comes  His  breath — 

Slower  and  slower  throbs  the  breaking  heart; 
The  thorn-crown'd  head  droops  lower  still  in  death  : 
The  dim  eyes  close  —  the  white  lips  fall  apart; 
One  piercing  cry  the  mournful  Mother  hears, 
And  lo  !  it  wakes  her  from  her  trance  of  tears  ! 

XII. 

The  scourge,  the  nails,  the  sponge,  the  thorny  crown. 

Upon  the  table  lie  —  O  bitter  sight ! 
But  close  beside  her,  kneels  the  dear  Saint  John, 
Sharing  the  vigils  of  that  solemn  night ; 
And  fair-haired  Magdalen,  her  kisses  sweet 
Doth,  pitying,  rain  upon  our  Mother's  feet. 


52  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 


STAR  THE  TWELFTH:    DIVINE  LOVE,  AND 
ETERNAL  UNION  WITH  GOD. 

HER     BLESSED      DEATH      AND      GLORIOUS      ASSUMPTION 
INTO    HEAVEN. 

I. 

'"'' When  I  had  little  passed  by  thevi^  I  foii7td  Hint  whom  my  soul  loveth  :    I 
held  him^  and  I  zvill  not  let  Him  go.''"' — Cant.,  in,  4. 

The  weary  years  of  exile  past  and  gone, — 
Behold,  at  last,  the  Blessed  Mother  lying 

Dpon  her  little  couch  :  it  is  the  dawn, 
And  she  is  calmly  dying. 

Not  of  disease,  not  of  a  slow  decay, 

Nor  touched  by  Time,  nor  worn  by  grief  or  care, 
But  going  forth,  as  on  her  marriage-day 

Goes  forth  the  maiden  fair. 

Love,  in  its  furnace  of  intense  desire, 
Hath  melted  steadily  her  prison- bars  ; 

The  last  frail  link  dissolves, —  be  swift,  sweet  fire  ! 
Her  glad  eyes  glow  like  stars ! 

O  sad  disciples !   'round  this  pillow  throng, 
For  here  the  dews  of  grace  are  thickly  falling, 

The  little  room  is  filled  with  light  and  song. 
And  Christ  the  King  is  calling : 


DIVINE    LOVE.  53 


"Arise,  My  love,  My  dove,  make  haste  and  come, 
The  rain  is  o'er,  the  Winter  now  is  past. 
Behold  !  throughout  our  land,  in  glorious  bloom, 
The  flow'rs  appear  at  last ! 

"  Come  forth.  My  love,  My  dove,  from  this  drear  place, 
Arise  and  come.  My  peerless,  beauteous  one !  " — 

— With  outstretched  arms,  a  glory  on  her  face, 
The  Mother  clasps  her  Son  ! 

II. 

''^Stirge^ proper a^  arnica  viea^  et  veni  !  " — Cant.,  ii,  io. 

The  angels  stood  upon  a  mighty  cloud. 
And  thro'  their  silver  trumpets  cried  aloud : 
"  Oh  !  who  is  she  that  goeth  up  on  high. 
That  by  the  desert,  goeth  up  on  high, 
E'en  as  a  pillar  of  celestial  smoke  .^ 
Oh  !  tell  us  who  is  she  }  " 
— The  while  the  watchers  spoke, 
A  grand  response  was  given 
By  all  the  loyal  winds  of  heaven, 
Responding  rapturously: 
"It  is  the  Queen,  the  Queen,  the  Queen, 
Maria,  Mater  Gratioe  I 
Our  risen,  radiant  Queen  !  ", 

"  And  who  is  this  .''" — the  voices  cried  again. 
Sweet  voices,  thrilling  all  the  haunts  of  men  ; 


54  CROWNED    WITH    STARS. 

"  Oh  !  who  is  this,  by  blessed  shapes  upborne, 
That  Cometh  forth  as  lustrous  as  the  morn, 
Fair  as  the  rising  of  the  golden  morn  ? 
Oh!  tell  us,  who  is  this?" 
— Scarce  hush'd  each  silver  horn, 
Ere  glad  response  was  given 
By  all  the  eager  winds  of  heaven, 
Responding  in  their  bliss  : 
"  It  is  the  Queen,  the  Queen,  the  Queen  ! 
O  Mater  Admirabilis  ! 
Our  pure  and  gracious  Queen  !  " 

And  yet  once  more  they  cried  from  out  the  cloud, 
Thro'  all  their  airy  trumpets  cried  aloud : 
"  Oh  !  who  is  she  that  cometh  up  on  high, 
From  out  the  desert  going  up  on  high, 
All  flowing  with  ineffable  delights  ? 
Oh  !  tell  us,  who  is  she  ?" 
— And  to  those  glorious  heights, 
A  last  response  was  given. 
By  all  the  four-tongued  winds  of  heaven 
Responding  mightily : 
"Behold  it  is  the  Queen,  the  Queen  ! 
Regina^  Maier  Domini  ! 
Who  cometh  up  triumphantly 
From  out  the  desert's  barren  scene. 
Rejoice,  O  land  !  O  sky  !  O  sea  ! 
For  she  hath  highly-favored  been, 


DIVINE    LOVE.  55 


And  she  to-day  shall  crowned  be, 

As  Heaven's  sovereign  Queen  !  ".     .     .     . 

— And  all  the  voices  in  the  air, 
Caught  up  the  echo,  like  a  prayer, 

"  The  Queen,  the  Queen,  the  sovereign  Queen  ! 
Hail,  Heaven's  sovereign  Queen  !" 


LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS 

FOR   THE 

CHILDREN   OF   MARY. 


LEGENDS   AND    LYRICS, 


PIPPO'S   VISION. 
I. 

A  poor  Italian  soldier,  who,  of  old, 

Had  been  a  shepherd  on  some  Alpine  farms. 
Having  resigned  his  crook,  and  left  his  fold, 

To  enter  on  the  glorious  trade  of  arms ; 
Unluckily  had  joined  a  regiment 
Of  reckless  fellows,  more  on  plunder  bent 
Than  on  their  country's  glory — who  entic'd 
The  simple  shepherd  from  the  love  of  Christ ; 
And  led  him  into  crimes  so  black  and  harden'd 
That  Pippo  quite  despaired  of  being  pardoned  : 
And  what  with  wine,  and  what  with  cards  and  dice, 
Sank  daily  deeper  in  the  slough  of  vice. 

II. 

Faith  almost  gone,  and  innocence  quite  stained. 
One  sole  redeeming  point,  alone,  remained ; 
For,  in  his  strange,  mistaken  way,  poor  lout, 
The  soldier  still  to  Mary  was  devout. 
And  still  recited  (when  he  said  none  other) 
Some  little  prayer  unto  that  blessed  Mother. 

III. 

There  came  a  day  when,  after  hours  of  fight, 
The  brave  Tyrolians  broke  their  ranks  and  fled, 


6o  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Leaving  behind  them,  in  their  hasty  flight, 

Almost  as  many  dying  men,  as  dead. 
And  lo !  poor  Pippo  lay  among  the  rest, 
With  a  great  sabre-gash  across  his  breast. 

IV. 

He  was  so  sick  and  dizzy  with  his  wound, 
That  he  knew  nothing  definite;  but  swoon 'd, 
And  then  revived,  and  swoon'd,  and  swoon'd  again,- 
The  dark  night  falling  ere  he  woke, —  and  then, 
Inburning  fever  raved  (poor  wretch  !)  and  cursed 
Because  there  was  no  drink  to  quench  his  thirst. 

V. 

"  Water !  one  draught  of  water,  or  of  wine  ! 
Will  no  one  wet  these  blazing  lips  of  mine  ? 
Will  no  one  drive  away  these  fiends  from  hell 
Whose  torches  fire  my  blood? 

— Hark!  hark!  a  bell, — 
A  sheep-bell  ringing  up  the  Alps, —  how  sweet ! 
There's  snow  in  plenty  there,  and  frozen  sleet, 
And  down  the  avalanche,  the  moisture  drips 

Its  icy  liquor  on  my  thirsty  lips 

The  sheep  are  straying  hereabout :  methinks 

I'll  track  the  bell — "  and  down  poor  Pippo  sinks, 

While  thro'  the  pitchy  darkness  rings  and  rings 

The  tinkling  bell;  as,  close  at  hand,  (poor  things,) 

The  tired  mules  in  a  deserted  van. 

Crop  the  adjacent  hedge  as  best  they  can. 


PIPPO'S    VISION.  6  I 


VI. 

'Twas  but  a  trifling  thing,  that  tinkling  sound, 
But  unto  Pippo,  bleeding  on  the  ground. 
It  told  strange  stories,  like  a  mocking  tongue, 
Of  shepherd  days  when  he  was  pure  and  young. 
And  in  the  midst  of  all  his  feverish  pain. 
There  came  across  his  weak,  bewilder'd  brain, 
Such  peaceful  pictures  of  the  mountain  chalet, 
And  of  the  sheep,  and  of  the  sunny  valley, 
That  Pippo  wept,  and  clasp'd  his  hands,  and  pray'd 
His  childhood's  Ave  to  the  Virgin  Maid. 

VII. 

Lo!  thro'  the  darkness  shone  a  brilliant  light. 
And  in  its  midst,  a  Lady  clothed  in  white. 
Who  looked  on  Pippo  with  her  sad,  sweet  face, 
And  lifted  to  his  mouth  a  dripping  vase! 

VIII. 

That  sparkling  draught,  as  cool  as  ice  could  make  it, 
How  eagerly  the  soldier  turned  to  take  it ! 
But,  ere  it  touched  his  lips,  as  quick  recoil'd, 
And  dashed  the  cup  upon  the  ground  disgusted, 
For  e'en  its  very  mouth-piece  was  bemoil'd, 
Its  sides  and  brim  with  foulest  dirt  incrusted ! 

IX. 

Then  the  sweet  Lady  murmured  thro'  her  tears, 
"  O  erring  Pippo  !  thus,  for  years  and  years. 


62  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Have  thy  poor  prayers  to  Me  presented  been, 

Out  of  the  goblet  of  thy  life  of  sin ; 

And  dost  thou  wonder  that  they  sicken  Me, 

When  this  one  draught  can  so  repulsive  be  ? " 

— Lo  !  with  the  words,  'twas  pitchy  dark  again  ; 

And  Pippo  rose,  and  felt  nor  wound  nor  pain, 

But  took  his  sword  and  broke  it  on  his  knee. 

And  cast  the  pieces  from  him,  joyfully; 

Then,  while  the  grateful  tears  ran  down  his  beard. 

Strode  to  the  hedge,  plunged  through,  and  disappear'd. 

X. 

And  since  ?     The  world  knows  naught  of  Pippo,  save 

For  certain  rumors  of  a  shepherd  grave. 

Who  dwells  far  up  the  mountain  in  his  chalet. 

But  tends  the  sheep-folds  in  the  sunny  valley ; 

And,  'tis  a  legend  in  that  simple  land. 

The  rosary  is  ever  in  his  hand, 

And  from  his  lips,  the  Ave  sounds  so  sweet. 

It  draws  the  very  lambkins  to  his  feet. 

But  when  he  fills  his  flagon  at  the  spring. 

And,  drinking,  hears  the  silv'ry  sheep-bells  ring, 

'Tis  said,  he  lifts  his  hat,  and  on  the  grass, 

Kneels  down  to  whisper  ^''Deo grat'ias  I  " 


OUR    LADY    OF    GOOD    COUNSEL.  6^ 


OUR    LADY    OF    GOOD    COUNSEL 

AT    GENAZZANO. 
I. 

Over  the  sea  from  Scutari, 

Is  Genazzano  quaint  and  fair, 
In  the  mystic  glow  of  long  ago, 

Floated  a  picture  through  the  air. 

A  picture  old  with  a  rim  of  gold, 

Where  the  rarest  skill  of  the  Byzantine 

Had  softly  limned  on  a  fresco  dim. 

The  Virgin  Queen  and  the  Babe  divine. 

II- 
His  blessed  Face  in  her  close  embrace, 

She  held  the  Infant  firm  and  fast ; 
And,  fair  to  trace  in  their  tender  grace. 

The  arms  of  the  Child  were  'round  her  cast. 

While,  pure  and  pale  from  her  fringed  veil. 
The  lily-face  of  the  Mother  shone, 

The  yellow  light  of  His  halo  bright 
Melting  and  mixing  with  her  own. 

HI. 
Over  the  sea  from  Scutari, 
In  April  dusk,  in  April  dawn, 


64  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Thro' sunset  hues  and  morning  dews, 
A  drifting  star,  when  stars  were  none: 

By  viewless  hands  of  angel-bands 

Borne  safe  to  Genazzano  fair. 
Over  the  sea  from  Scutari, 

Floated  the  fresco  through  the  air. 

IV. 

The  night  was  chill, —  the  streets  were  still. 
The  picture  passed  thro'  the  little  town. 

At  twilight-fall,  o'er  the  broken  wall 
Of  an  ancient  chapel,  settling  down  ; 

And  there  in  the  dawn  of  the  April  morn. 
The  wond'ring  people  saw  it  shine, 

Suspended  low  o'er  a  wall  of  snow, 

With  no  support  save  the  Hand  divine  ! 

V. 

Pure  and  bright  as  the  orient  light. 
The  maiden  Mother  and  her  Child, 

Mysterious  borne  to  that  spot  forlorn. 
Over  the  holy  ruins  smiled  ! 

The  ruddy  flame  of  the  sunlight  came 
To  wrap  the  fresco  round  and  round, — 
"  A  miracle  !  a  miracle  !  " 

The  people  cried,  as  they  kiss'd  the  ground. 


OUR  LADY  OF  GOOD  COUNSEL.         65 


VI. 

And  there  they  knelt  and  there  they  prayed 

Around  the  Lady  of  the  air ; 
And  day  by  day,  in  a  magic  way, 

A  shrine  majestic  builded  there  ; 

Where  high  in  place,  o'er  the  altar-place, 
Its  wondrous  wand'rings  safely  ended. 

Serene  and  fair,  in  the  upper  air, 

The  shining  picture  hung  suspended. 

VII. 

The  curious  hand  might  pass  a  wand 

On  ev'ry  side,  above,  below, 
-All  unsustained,  on  its  height  remained, 

The  Image  none  might  name  or  know ; 

Till  a  stranger-priest  from  the  golden  East, 

Told  of  a  fresco  fair  to  see, 
Which  drifted  away,  one  April  day. 

From  the  wall  of  a  church  in  Scutari. 

VIII. 

A  star  .of  peace  on  dark'ning  seas 

Where  storm-toss'd  ships  were  blindly  sailing, 
-A  light  to  shoals  of  exiled  souls, 
A  pilgrim  Patroness  unfailing, 
9 


66  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Behold !  they  named  her  as  she  sat, 

Her  Babe  upon  her  breast  of  snow, — 
The  guardian  sweet  of  wandering  feet, 
"  Madre  del  Buon  Consiglio  /  " 

IX. 

O  Maid  divine  !  in  far-off  shrine 
Beyond  the  purple,  rolling  sea. 

In  all  our  wanderings  far  and  wide. 
Our  Mother  of  Good  Counsel  be  ! 

In  all  our  fears,  our  doubt,  our  tears. 
Our  nights  of  sleepless  bitterness, — 

Be  thou  the  star  that  shines  afar. 
To  gild  the  clouds  of  dark  distress ; 

And  o'er  the  sea,  O  love  !  to  thee 
Our  pilgrim  hearts  shall  gladly  go,. 

And,  grateful,  share  thy  tender  care 
Madre  del  Buon  Consiglio  /. 


THE    BETROTHAL    OF     SAINT    THOMAS.  67 


THE   BETROTHAL   OF    SAINT    THOMAS    OF 
CANTERBURY. 

I. 

In  a  lovely  cloistered  garden, 

On  the  grass  beneath  the  trees, 
In  the  absence  of  their  tutor. 

Some  young  students,  at  their  ease, 
Were  reclining  and  recounting, 

Half  in  earnest,  half  in  jest, 
The  virtues  and  the  graces 

Of  the  maidens  they  loved  best. 

II. 

•  When  out-spake  the  young  a-Becket, 

Rearing  up  his  stature  tall, 
"Ye  may  boast  your  fill,  my  gallants. 
Of  your  sweethearts,  one  and  all ; 
Be  she  dame,  or  be  she  duchess, 

Aye,  or  princess  of  the  line. 
Not  a  sweetheart  in  the  realm 

Can  compare  with  mine,  with  mine  ! 

III. 

"  Oh !  her  face  is  like  a  flower 
In  its  rarest,  tenderest  bloom  ; 


68  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 


Her  hair,  a  golden  splendor, 

And  her  breath,  a  rich  perfume : 

And  rays  of  melting  glory 

From  her  eyes,  like  moonlight,  flow,- 

For  oh  !  she  loves  me,  colleagues, 
With  a  love  that  passeth  show ! " 

IV. 

In  his  manly  eye  there  trembled 

A  tear  :  his  forehead  glowed 
With  a  strangely  deep  emotion. 

As  he  turned  away,  and  strode 
Past  his  mute  and  staring  comrades, 

Down  a  pathway  by  the  brook. 
To  a  chapel  of  our  Lady 

In  a  green  and  shady  nook. 

V. 

There  he  cast  him  in  a  passion 

Of  tears  at  Mary's  feet, — 
And  cried  aloud,  still  sobbing, 

With  a  pathos   strong  and  sweet, 
"  O  my  Mistress  !    O  my  Lady ! 

(Of  all  women  prized  the  most), 
Take  thy  lover's  feeble  homage, 

And  forgive  his  foolish  boast ! 


THE    BETROTHAL    OF    SAINT    THOMAS.  69 


VI. 

"  Pardon  all  my  wild  presumption, 
That  I  dared—,"  the  statue  stirs, 

And,  above  a-Becket  stooping, 

Takes  his  trembling  hand  in  hers  ! 

Puts  a  ring  upon  his  finger. 
Swiftly  casts  a  scarlet  stole 

On  his  shoulders,  as  she  murmurs  : 

"Thou  art  mine,  O  virgin  soul !" 

VII. 

Then  the  air  grows  crisp  with  music. 

As  of  bells  of  silver, —  yea, 
As  the  bells  of  some  old  minster. 

Swinging,  ringing  far  away ; 
"  Priest  and  bishop,  saint  and  martyr, 

For  my  sake.?  "  our  Lady  says, — 
And  the  bells  of  Canterbury 

Tremble  out  a  gracious  "  Yes !  " 


70  LEGENDS   AND    LYRICS. 


IN  HELIOPOLIS. 


I. 


Under  the  shadow  of  the  leaves, 

"In  the  soft  Summer  weather, 
Sitting,  the  maiden  Mother  weaves 
Some  mystic  robe  together. 

Down  by  the  little  silver  brook 

The  Holy  Infant  lingers. 
Holding,  with  sweet  mysterious  look. 

Grapes  in  His  shining  fingers. 

Down  by  the  little  silver  brook. 
Watching  the  wild-bird  drinking, 

His  face,  like  some  pure,  sacred  book. 
Is  writ'  with  earnest  thinking. 

How  fair  art  Thou,  Beloved ! 

II. 

Weeping,  the  maiden  Mother  saith, 

Softly  :     "  O  heart's  desire  ! 
Alas  !  in  what  most  cruel  death 

Must  Thy  young  life  expire !  " 

Weeping,  "  With  what  most  cruel  whips 
Must  that  pure  flesh  be  riven  ! 


IN    HELIOPOLIS.  71 


To  what  rude  thorns,  what  black  eclipse, 
Must  that  calm  brow  be  given ! 

Alas  !  my  best  Beloved  !  " 

III. 

Up  from  the  brooklet's  reedy  bed, 

The  sated  wild-bird  fleeth, — 
Young  Jesus  lifts  His  graceful  head, 

And  His  sweet  Mother  seeth. 

Tears  on  her  lashes,  soft  and  brown  ? 

What  evil  doth  betide  her  ? 
The  Infant  casts  His  treasures  down, 

And  softly  stands  beside  her. 

Over  her  cheek,  all  tremulous. 
She  feels  His  sacred  breath, — 
"  What  mournful  thought  hath  moved  thee  thus  ?** 
"  Thy  death,"  she  answereth, 

"  Thy  death,  my  own  Beloved !  " 

IV. 

Pressing  His  face  (a  fragrant  rose) 
Upon  her  breast.  He  saith : 
"  Sweet  mother^  Heaven  s  gates  unclose 
With  the  dark  key  of  Death  I  " 


72  LEGENDS    AND    LRYICS.   • 

Then  the  great  sorrow  of  her  eyes 

Melts  in  a  lustre  deep ; 
— The  moon  looks  in :  dear  Jesus  lies 

Within  her  arms,  asleep, 

Sleep  sweet,  O  best  Beloved ! 


MATER    MISERICORD!^. 


At  Savona,  near  the  sea, 
Is  a  fair  celestial  shrine, 
Where,  in  many  a  radiant  line, 

The  lamps  burn  constantly ; 

The  lamps  of  gold  and  silver 
Crowning  head  and  starring  base 

Of  the  statue  of  our  Lady, 
Filling  all  that  solemn  place 

With  its  history  of  mystery, 
The  glory  and  the  grace 

Of  a  legend,  lovely  as  the  light 
That  bathes  her  lily-face. 

II- 

At  Savona,  near  the  sea. 

Flows  a  little  crystal  stream, 
Like  a  river  in  a  dream, 

It  runneth  noiselesslv. 


MATER    MTSERICORDIiE.  73 


And  it  flows  beneath  the  altar 

Of  that  pure  Savona  shrine. 
From  the  mountains,  through  the  valleys, 

Sends  its  waters  to  the  shrine, 
Till  they  warble  round  the  marble 

Of  a  staircase,  sculptured  fine. 
Winding  down  to  where  the  ripple  blaze, 

Like  jewels  in  a  mine. 

III. 

Where  they  rarest,  fairest,  gleam, 
Once,  in  days  dark  in  the  present, 
A  poor  and  humble  peasant 

Was  washing  in  the  stream  ; 

When  there  shone  a  sudden  splendor, 
On  the  bank  ;  and  here,  just  here. 

Where  the  pendant  lamps  resplendent 
The  holy  spot  endear, 

And  the  statue  of  our  Lady 
Has  stood  for  many  a  year — 

He  saw  in  tears  and  tenderness. 
Her  very  self  appear  ! 

IV. 

The  Queen  in  whom  our  trust  is, 
— He  saw  her  droop  her  head 

He  heard  her  sobbing  as  she  said  : 
"  Oh  !  mercy,  and  not  justice  ! 

10 


74  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Oh  !  mercy,  and  not  justice  !  " 
— It  seemed  to  fill  the  air, 
"  Oh  !  mercy,  and  not  justice  !  " 

Three  times  she  murmured  there, 
Beseeching  hands  out-reaching, 
In  her  anguish  pleading  there  ; 
— And  then  he  knew  Savona's  sins 
Were  calling  forth  that  prayer. 

V. 

So  he  hied  him  to  the  town. 

And  he,  trembling,  told  the  tale, 

And  the  Savonese  grew  pale, 
Hiding  fear  beneath  a  frown  ; 
But;  behold  !  the  wondrous  vision 

Thro'  the  land,  like  wildfire,  ran 
For  our  Lady  blessed  the  mission 

Of  that  simple,  righteous  man, 
And  above  the  holy  stream. 

On  the  bank  they  built  this  shrine,- 
Where  the  lamps  of  gold  and  silver 

'Round  the  Virgin's  statue  shine,— 
And  the  weeping  sinners  creeping 

To  that  citadel  divine, 
With  the  sick  and  ailing  pilgrims. 

Found  the  waters  rich  as  wine. 


THE    VEILED    HEAD    IN    THE    WINDOW.  75 


VI. 

And  Savona's  sons  did  penance, 

And  her  daughters  watched  and  prayed ; 
The  cells,  the  hermit-fathers  made, 
Were  thronged  with  sobbing  tenants. 
And  the  voices  of  many  thousands 
Rent  the  blue  Italian  air  : 
"  Oh  !  mercy,  and  not  justice  !  " 
They  cried  in  such  despair, 
"  Oh  !  mercy,  and  not  justice  !  " 
They  cried,  prostrated  there, — 
The  Madonna  of  Savona 

Pleaded  :  "  Spare  them,  Son,  O  spare  !  " 
—And  the  Lord  of  justice  yielding, 
In  His  mercy  heard  her  prayer. 


THE  VEILED  HEAD  IN  THE  WINDOW. 

'Tis  placed  in  a  public  window. 

In  a  crowded  thoroughfare, 
A  marble  bust  of  our  Lady, 

In  the  attitude  of  prayer. 

A  lovely,  delicate  labor 

Of  a  pure,  exalted  art, 
Revealing  in  every  feature 

The  reverential  heart. 


76  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

For,  over  the  head  of  the  Virgin, 
The  sculptor's  hand  hath  thrown, 

As  if  with  an  angel's  tenderness, 
A  marvellous  veil  of  stone  ; 

And  over  the  maiden's  visage. 

So  like  a  thing  of  flesh. 
Like  a  spider's  wed  o'er  a  lily, 

Is  cast  that  filmy  mesh. 

Out  of  the  airy  shadow. 

The  faultless  lineaments 
Emerge,  in  their  gracious  sweetness. 

In  their  grave,  young  innocence, — 

Just  as  the  fancy  pictures 

The  same  dear  face — sweet  faith! 

In  the  old  Egyptian  doorways, 
Or  the  porch  of  Nazareth. 

*Tis  odd  to  stand   in  the  shadow. 
And  watch  the  hurrying  crowd 

Ebb  and  flow  to  this  window. 
With  praises,  low  or  loud. 

Just  as  the  dark  Egyptians, 
Or  the  Nazarenes  of  old, — 

The  rabble  is  won  by  the  magic 
Of  that  visage,  pure  and  cold. 


THE    VEILED    HEAD    IN    THE    WINDOW.  77 


She  spreads  the  spirit  of  Jesus 

Abroad  in  the  sunny  street; 
And  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  demon, 

Are  drawn  to  her  royal  feet. 

Unto  the  dusty  workmen. 

Who  halt  in  the  sun  or  rain ; 
Unto  the  ragged  gamins, 

Who  gape  through  the  crystal  pane; 

Unto  the  merchant  princes, 

Worldlings,  and  children  young, 

She  speaks,  thro'  the  spell  of  her  silence, 
With  a  sweet,  mysterious  tongue  : 

"Come  over  to  me,"  she  whispers, 
"And  be  enlightened,  all; 
And  watch  at  my  gates  in  patience. 
Till  the  dews  of  grace  shall  fall. 

"  Come  over  to  me,  my  children, 
The  Mother  of  God  above, 
Of  fear  and  celestial  science. 
Of  hope  and  of  holy  love  !  " 

And  they  cannot  choose  but  come  over, 
Not  choose  but  pause  for  a  space. 

Till  their  hearts  are  filled  with  the  beauty 
Of  that  veiled  and  virgin  face. 


78  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

And  going  their  ways  thro'  the  city, 
To  their  haunts  of  toil  or  ease, 

They  carry  about  them  a  perfume, 
A  savory  odor  of  peace. 

Sweeter  than  lilies  and  roses, 
Subtile  as  light  can  be, — 

'Tis  the  breath  of  the  veiled  Madonna 
And  her  clinging  memory. 


BLESSED    BERCHMA.NS'    LEGACY. 

I. 

When  blessed  Berchmans'  life  was  near  its  end, 

Some  of  his  fellow  students  came  one  day, 
And  timidly  besought  their  saintly  friend. 
To  leave  to  them  before  he  passed  away 
One  precious  gift,  one  priceless  legacy  ; 
— The  holy  Fleming,  in  his  cap  and  gown, 

The  book  of  rules  upon  his  desk,  laid  down  ; 
And  smiling  asked  :  "  What  might  this  treasure 
be?" 

II. 

Then  a  sweet  lad,  the  best  and  bravest-lipp'd. 
Replied  :  "  Dear  John,  it  is  a  manuscript, 
A  golden  treasure  of  a  manuscript, 


BLESSED    BERCHMAKS     LEGACY.  79 

By  which  your  hand,  and  yours  alone,  must  tell  us, 
In  words  dictated  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 

With  what  grand  acts,  for  love  is  very  jealous. 
We  boys  can  please  our  blessed  Mother  most." 

III. 

He  ceased, — a  sob  half-rising  in  his  throat, 

And  all  the  rest  attending  silently : 
While  blessed  Berchmans  took  his  pen,  and  wrote: 

"  Any  small  thing,  so  it  but  constant  beT 
— That  much,  and  nothing  more,  succinct,  you  see, 

'''Any  small  things  so  it  but  constant  be.*' 

IV. 

It  was  a  scene  as  fair  and  picturesque 
As  eye  of  painter  ever  gazed  upon, — 
The  eager  students  crowding  round  the  desk. 
And  the  uplifted  face  of  blessed  John  ; 
His  eyes,  as  blue  as  violets  in  May, 
Looked  tenderly  in  theirs,  as  if  to  say, 
"  These  little  words  contain  a  truth  eternal : 
I've  given  ye  the  nut, — find  ye  the  kernel !  " 
The  while,  the  youths,  the  proffer'd  parchment,  took, 
He  quietly  resumed  his  favorite  book. 


8o  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 


A  LITTLE  LEGEND  OF  THE  "AVE  MARIA. '^ 

I. 

It  was  a  sick  girl's  prisoned  pet, 
A  rainbow-tinted  paroquet, 
^-Close  to  her  chamber-window  hung, 

With  restless  wings  and  chattering  tongue. 
It  watched  the  wind  blow,  to  and  fro, 
The  airy  curtains  white  as  snow  ; 
And  laughed  whene'er  the  sunset's  fire 
Flashed  on  its  cage  of  silver  wire. 

11. 
But  ever  as  the  sick  girl  said  : 

"  Ave  Maria  !  "  on  her  bed, 

"  Ave  Maria  !  "  cried  the  bird. 
As  if  with  secret  rev'rence  stirr'd  : 
His  eyes  like  jewels,  bright  and  red. 
His  green  and  golden  wings  out-spread, — 

"  Ave  Maria  !  "  w^hispered  she, 

"  Ave  Maria!''  echoed  he. 
And  sideways  turned  his  scarlet  head, 
To  eye  her  glitt'ring  rosary. 

III. 
At  some  such  moment,  thro'  the  blinds. 
The  wind  a  fuller  entrance  finds, — 


A    LITTLE    LEGEND    OF    THE    "  AVE    MARIA."         8l 


Against  the  wall  the  cage  is  blown, 

Its  treach'rous  door  wide  open  thrown, — 

And  ere  the  sick  girl  to  her  aid 

Can  call  the  loit'ring  waiting-maid, 

She  sees  the  silver  wires  part, 

And  something  green  and  golden  dart. 

With  arching  head  and  wings  spread  wide, 

Into  the  sunny  space  outside  ! 

IV. 

Then,  thro'  the  silence  may  be  heard  : 
Ave  Maria  !  save  my  bird  !  " 
While  up  and  up,  the  truant  flies 
Rejoicing  to  the  bright  blue  skies  ! 


V. 


He  feels  the  soft  air  on  his  breast, 
The  setting  sunlight  on  his  crest; 
He  hears  the  vesper-bells  outringing. 
And  birds  in  hidden  gardens  singing; 
But  ah !  poor  pet,  he  does  not  see. 
Exulting  in  his  liberty, 
He  does  not  hear  the  practiced  wing 
Which  down  the  sky  comes  hurrying ; 
The  hungry  hawk,  which  grim  and  gray, 
Swoops,  like  a  dark  cloud,  o'er  its  prey ! 
II 


82  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

VI. 

One  moment,  and  the  sick  girl's  pet 
Is  free  and  fair  and  joyous  yet, — 
The  next,  the  truant's  golden  dream 
Isbroken  by  a  cruel  scream. 
As,  pouncing  on  him,  strong  and  fierce, 
Those  angry  claws  his  feathers  pierce. 
And  skies  and  trees  and  gardens  swim 
Before  his  poor  eyes,  scared  and  dim! 

VII. 

^\Ave  Maria/'*-  cries  the  bird, 
As  if  his  heart  were  in  each  word  : 

"  Ave  Maria  I  Ave  Maria  /  " 
And  at  the  sound,  O  cara  mia  I 
The  hawk  relinquishes  its  hold 
Upon  the  plumage,  green  and  gold. 
And  softly  lets  the  truant  fall 
Over  his  lady's  garden- wall ! 

VIII. 

^^  Ave  Maria!  thanks,"  she  said. 
And,  smiling,  stroked  the  scarlet  head  : 

"  O  tender  name  !  which,  like  a  charm. 
Hath  freed  my  little  bird  from  harm. 
Deliver  me  from  ev*ry  snare, 
Ave  Maria  !   pure  and  fair !" 


THE    madonna's    PENITENT.  S^ 


THE  MADONNA'S  PENITENT. 

^'Um'ca  spes  Desperantiiuny —'S>'v.  Ephrem. 

To  the  feet  of  Friar  Lawrence, 
In  the  old  God-fearing  time, 

Came  a  nobleman  of  Florence, 
Young  in  years,  but  old  in  crime. 

Richly  deck'd,  this  courtly  Signor, 
In  the  gauds  which  worldlings  prize. 

All  unblushing  his  demeanor. 
Bold  and  dry  his  brilliant  eyes. 

Kneeling,  spake  he  to  friar : 
"  Tho'  a  sinful  man  I've  been, 
Mine  is  now  a  true  desire 
To  repent  me  of  my  sin. 

"But  whene'er  I  fain  would  turn  me 
To  my  God  in  humble  prayer. 
From  His  face  He  seems  to  spurn  me 
To  the  depths  of  Hell's  despair. 

"  Hard  and  cold  my  heart  as  granite, 
In  a  sea  of  fury  toss'd. 
Burns  my  brain  with  horror, —  can  it 
Be,  great  God  !  that  I  am  lost !  " 


84  .      LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Gently  stoop'd  the  monk  above  him, 
Raised  and  bless'd  him,  where  he  stood; 

How  could  he  but  bless  and  love  him 
Whom  the  love  of  God  pursued  ? 

Marvelling  in  pious  wonder 
At  the  ways  of  grace  divine : 
"  Go,  my  son,"  he  said,  "  through  yonder 
Portal,  unto  Mary's  shrine; 

"  Warden  of  the  heav'nly  city, 

Sweeter  than  the  saints  have  dreamed. 
Thou  wilt  find  her  full  of  pity 
For  the  soul  her  Son  redeemed. 


"  Pray  her  with  a  heart  confiding. 
With  a  fervor  deep  and  true  ; 
At  her  feet  in  faith  abiding, 

Wait,  and  see  what  God  will  do." 


■^  *  * 


■Pushing  back  the  heavy  curtain, 
In  the  chapel,  all  alone, 

Stands  the  nobleman,  uncertain. 
At  a  shrine  of  polish 'd  stone; 

Where,  within  a  nest  of  roses. 
Sits  a  marble  image  fair 

Of  the  Queen,  who  never  closes 
Her  pure  ear  to  sinner's  prayer. 


THE    madonna's    PENITENT.  85 

Golden  lustre  from  the  candles 

Glows  upon  her  visage  sweet, — 
Casting  off  his  jewelled  sandals, 

Kneels  the  noble  at  her  feet  ; 

Kisses  oft  the  snowy  border 

Of  her  sculptured  drapery. 
Cries  aloud  :  "  Have  pity,  Mother  ! 

Intercede  with  God  for  me  !  " 


Sudden  thro'  the  clust'ring  roses 
Shoots  a  slender,  shining  hand, 

Like  a  lily,  white  and  od'rous. 
Stretches  forth  our  Lady*s  hand 


And  upon  its  palm  is  written. 
Clear  as  words  of  light  can  be, 
"  Courage  !  I  will  thee  deliver 

From  the  foes  afflicting  thee  !  " 

As,  of  old,  when  struck  by  Moses, 
From  the  rock  the  water  starts, 

Lo !  our  Lady  of  the  Roses, 

Draweth  tears  from  stony  hearts  ! 

Mastered  by  a  grand  emotion. 
Melting  with  a  passion  blest. 

Sorrow,  like  a  mighty  ocean, 

Surging  in  his  throbbing  breast : 


S6  LEGENDS    AND    LYRTCS. 

"  Credo —  spero  —  a^no  !  " —  gently, 
Words  like  these  came  brokenly, 

"  O  my  Saviour!  I  repent  me 
Of  my  sins  for  love  of  Thee ! 

*'  For  the  sake  of  sweet  Madonna, 
Do  not  scorn  a  spirit  crush'd ! 
Cleanse  my  soul  from  its  dishonor. 
Pardon  !  " — and  his  voice  is  hush'd. 


— Brighter  glow  the  wasting  tapers. 
Sweeter  smell  the  fading  flowers ; 
Deeper  grows  the  hush,  and  deeper. 
Minutes  lengthen  into  hours. 

In  his  closet,  watching,  waiting. 
Some  one  tells  his  rosary, 

Kneels,  and  rises,  hesitating, 
Looks  and  listens  anxiously  ; 

Then,  on  noiseless  feet,  the  friar 
Glides  along  the  corridor, 

Lifts  the  curtain  —  drawing  nigher  — 
Sees  the  shape  upon  the  floor, — 

Stealing  closer,  frightened  Lawrence 
Stoops,  and  lifts  the  pallid  head, — 

Lo  !  the  nobleman  of  Florence 
At  our  Lady's  feet  lies  —  dead  I 


OUR    BLESSED    LADYS    SLEEP.  87 


OUR    BLESSED   LADY'S    SLEEP. 

Around  her  bed,  on  silver  feet, 

The  tender  moonshine  comes  and  goes ; 
Her  hands  are  folded  on  her  breast. 

Her  eyes,  in  soft  repose. 

While  'tween  her  lips,  the  virgin  breath 
Steals  calmly  out,  steals  calmly  in. 

With  ev'ry  motion  of  the  heart 
That  never  knew  a  sin. 

How  grandly,  thro'  the  childlike  face, 
The  pure  majestic  spirit  shows 

Its  constant  union  with  its  God 
Thro'  all  this  deep  repose  ! 

The  close  espousals  of  a  soul 

Whose  ev'ry  motive  upward  tends, 

A  golden  ladder,  by  whose  aid 
Each  word  and  work  ascends. 

Full  many  a  princess  on  her  couch. 
Rests  now,  devoid  of  diadem, 

But  none  is  like  this  Lily  pure. 
Asleep  upon  her  stem. 

She  casts  sweet  thoughts  into  my  heart, 
She  drops  sweet  words  upon  my  tongue. 


88  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

And  bids  me  paint  her  in  repcse, 
The  fair,  the  ever  young! 

Mute,  touching  image  of  that  sleep. 
Thou  shalt,  O  love  !  hereafter  taste, — 

When  in  the  grave  for  three  brief  days 
Thy  body  shall  be  placed  ! 

Dost  feel  the  keen  electric  thrill 

With  which  thou  shalt  be  drawn  to  light, 

Leaving  the  sacred  tomb  behind 
A  nest  of  lilies  white  ? 

Ah  !  let  us  cross  thy  lintel  fair, 
Ah  !  let  us  kneel  beside  thy  bed. 

And  tenderly  recall  the  words 
Which  Saint  Augustine  said. 

Painting  the  golden  Paradise 
Of  sinless  Adam  and  his  wife ; 
''  Their  dreams  when  sleeping  were  as  blest 
As  was  their  waking  life  !  " 

Dear  Mother !  could  the  Holy  Ghost 
Refuse  His  spouse  a  boon  like  that  ? 
— The  answer  stirs  her  dreaming  lips, 
"  Cor  ineum  vigilat !  " 


AT    LAST.  89 


AT    LAST. 


High  from  the  sepulchre,  where  lilies  fair 
Have  blown  and  blossom'd  thro'  the  hazy  night, 
With  virgin  face  aglow,  she  wings  her  flight 
Up  through  the  morning  air. 

II. 

Strange  lustres  break  upon  her  lifted  eyes, 
Strange  shapes  of  beauty  'round  her  pathway  throng, 
And  sounds  of  hidden  harp  and  silver  song 
Her  stainless  soul  surprise. 

III. 

Past  the  wide  orbits  where  the  starry  globes 
Shake  purest  splendors  from  their  flying  feet, 
Rose-flush'd,  she  steps  into  the  golden  street, 
A  Queen  in  royal  robes. 

IV. 

Her  Lord,  her  Beautiful,  while  seraphs  bow, 
The  center  of  all  light  and  worship  stands. 
The  rosy  Wounds  in  Side  and  Feet  and  Hands, 
The  thorn-marks  on  his  brow. 
12 


90  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

V. 

He  takes  her  hand  those  pierced  Palms  between 
Upon  her  face  His  loving  looks  abide, — 
"  To-day,  O  Mary,  Mother  long-denied, 
The  heavens  hail  their  Queen !  " 

VI. 
And  from  the  shining  ranks  of  endless  space, 
A  glorious  song-burst  rends  the  radiant  air ; 
And  Mary,  kneeling,  finds  her  heaven  there 
In  Christ's  beloved  face  ! 

VII. 

O  Lord  of  life  and  death  !    Thy  love  ordains 
This  holy  one  shall  ne'er  corruption  see ; 
After  the  cross,  the  crown.     Enthroned  by  Thee, 
The  Queen  in  triumph  reigns  ! 


OUR    LADY    OF   THE    CHAIR. 

Madonna  della  Sedta  !  it  hangs  upon  my  wall, 
Where  the  sunshine  makes  a  glory,  and  the  rippling 

moonbeams  fall ; 
Where  the  early  morning  bathes  it  in  its  pure  and 

pearly  light. 
And  the  falling  shadows  veil  it,  at  the  gloaming,  from 

my  sight. 


OUR    LADY    OF    THE    CHAIR.  91 


A  basso-rilievo  after  Raphael's  design, 

With  a  world  of  mystic  loveliness  in  every  curve  and 

line, 
As  I  sit  beneath  it,  writing  at  my  desk,  mine  eyes  will 

stray 
From  the  paper  to  the  picture,  a  hundred  times  a  day. 

The  Virgin  Mother  sitteth  in  her  carven  chair  an- 
tique, 

With  her  arms  about  the  Infant,  and  the  oval  of  her 
cheek 

Resting  lightly  on  the  silken  curls,  from  which  the 
Child's  clear  eyes, 

Full  of  a  fearless  dignity,  look  out  in  kingly  wise. 

Monarch,  and  yet  a  Baby,  with  His  dimpled  feet  up- 

curl'd, 
Half-hiding   in  his  Mother's    breast    the  Hands  that 

rule  the  world, 
Although   her  mantle  closer  press'd.  His  limbs  may 

clasp  about. 
Still  from  the  shelter  of  His  nest  the  Babe's  bright 

eyes  look  out. 

Ah !  as,  within  the  bosom  of  the  awful  main  concealed. 
Rare  wrecks  of  golden  treasure  to  the  diver  are  re- 
vealed,— 


92  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 


So  those  wondrous  eyes  of  Jesus  in  their  shadowless 

expanse, 
Reveal  a  golden  mystery  to  ev'ry  reverent  glance. 

And,  as  the  glory  of  the  stars  melts  dimly  thro'  the 

night. 
When  the  radiant   moon  is  flooding  all  the  heavens 

with  her  light. 
So,  in  the  moonlight-lustre  of  the  Mother's  peerless 

mien. 
The  starry-eyed  Saint  John,  at  first  (tho'  near  her),  is 

unseen. 

One  foot  upon  our   Lady's   stool,  one  arm  upon  her 

knee, 
Close  nestling  to  the  Infant  Christ,  the  son  of  Zachary, 
The  lovely  little  Baptist,  in  his  cloak  of  camel-hair. 
Is  far  too  fair  a  vision  to  be  long  forgotten  there. 

One  might   suppose   Elizabeth  had   sent  her  chosen 

boy, 
(Drawn  by  the  Holy  Spirit  with  a  strange  ascetic  joy.) 
To  bid  farewell  to  Mary,  beg  the  blessing  of  her  Child, 
Ere  he  hid  himself,  young  hermit,  in  the  desert  lone 

and  wild. 

And  gazing,  rapt  and  prayerful,  on  that  earthly  trinity, 
(The  fairest  out  of  heaven), — one  almost  fears  to  see 


OUR    LADY    OF    THE    CHAIR.  93 

The  curtain  by  the  pillar  gently  shaken,  and  with- 
drawn, 

And  the  wistful  face  of  John,  a  moment  lingering, — 
then,  gone. 

O  mighty  privilege  of  love  !  which  faith  can  ne'er 
forget, 

To  be  the  kinsman  of  our  Lord,  our  Lady's  chosen 
pet!— 

O  mightier  sacrifice  of  love  !  which,  having  once  be- 
held. 

Embraced  and  touched  the  living  Christ,  could  leave 
Him  when   He  willed. 

Forsake  the  little  sacred  room  our  tabernacle's  type, 
Whence  Joseph's  shop  looked  out  upon  the  orchard 

full  and  ripe  .'* 
Resign  the  Mother  in  her  chair, — the  Babe  upon  her 

knees } — 
Who  but  the  new  Elias  could  have  done  such  things 

as  these  1 

O  Angel  of  the  desert !  in  sweet  pity,  teach  me  how 
To  make  my  mansion  ready  for   so  pure  a  guest  as 

thou! 
How   to  build  upon   my  wretched    heart,  a    chair,  a 

throne  divine. 
Where  Mary  and  her  Son  may  sit,  and  govern  me  and 

mine  ! 


94  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

And  'twill  be  the  joy  of  worship,  while  they  steadily 

control 
All  the  senses  of  my  body,  all  the  powers  of  my  soul, — 
To  know  that  for  the  future,  health  or  sickness,  joy 

or  care. 
The  heart's  best  hopes  are  anchored  in  Our  Lady  of 

the  Chair  ! 


BETWEEN   THE    LIGHTS. 

'Tis  sweet  in  the  twilight  when  toil  is  suspended, 
A  hush  on  the  house,  and  the  tapers  unlit, 

The  work  and  the  woe  of  another  day  ended, — 
'Tis  sweet  at  the  feet  of  our  Lady  to  sit. 

To  creep  to  her  side,  tired  children  of  Mary, 

So  sure  that  our  Mother  oar  needs  understands, — 

Our  feverish  brows  in  her  dear  1  ip  to  bury, 

And  feel  on  our  heads  the  soft  stroke  of  her  hands. 

No  need  to  complain,  to  give  voice  to  our  sorrow, 
The  tongue  may  be  mute,  but  the  full  heart  o'erflows  ; 

The  wounds  of  to-day  and  the  wants  of  to-morrow, 
Are  soothed  by  that  touch  with  the  balm  of  repose. 

No  matter  how  burden'd  the  dusk  may  have  found  us, 
How  vexed  with  our  failures,  how  weary  of  heart, — 

She  draws  the  cool  folds  of  her  mantle  around  us. 
And  heat  and  vexation  of  spirit  depart. 


THE    BEGGAR  S    PRAYER.  95 

Oh  !  why  will  ye  sink  'neath  your  crosses,  my  brothers? 

Why  wander  the  world  with  a  bosom  oppress'd  ? 
When  here  at  the  feet  of  the  fondest  of  Mothers, 

There  waits  for  the  weary  the  sweetest  of  rest ! 


THE   BEGGAR'S    PRAYER. 

I. 

Close  to  the  massive  brazen  door 

Of  an  old  Cathedral  over  the  sea, 
A  beggar  crouch'd  on  the  marble  floor, 

Weeping  and  praying  continually ; 
From  the  first  faint  blush  of  the  morning  red 

Till  the  twilight  folded  its  pinions  gray, — 
Smiting  his  breast  and  drooping  his  head. 

Ever  and  always,  the  beggar  said  : 
"  Noveritn  Te,  noverim  me  !  " 

II. 

The  changeful  seasons  came  and  went, 
The  daily  Masses  were  said  or  sung  : 

The  lamp  of  the  Holy  Sacrament 

Its  fadeless  light  o'er  the  chancel  flung; 

And,  in  and  out,  like  a  rustling  tide. 

The  worshippers  flowed,  by  night,  by  day, — 

Still  in  his  nook  at  the  portal  wide, 


g6  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Ever  and  always,  the  beggar  cried : 
"  Noverim  TV,  novei'im  me  !  " 

III. 

At  last,  in  the  glow  of  a  Summer  late, 

Fair  as  the  light  in  its  eastern  skies, 
Tenderly  dawned  our  Lady's  fete, 

The  day  of  her  crowning  in  Paradise. 
But  lo  !  when  the  last  grand  Mass  was  o'er. 

And  the  last  fond  votary  drifted  away, 
The  weeping  beggar  was  heard  no  more. 

Crying  aloud  at  the  brazen  door  : 
'"''Noverim  7>,  ?wven?ji  me  I  " 

IV. 

They  found  him  slumbering,  cold  and  white. 
On  the  step  of  our  Lady's  brilliant  shrine. 
Circled  about  with  a  wondrous  light. 
The  peerless  rays  of  a  peace  divine. 
— The  shining  hair  from  his  temples  blown. 
His  face,  like  a  sun-touch'd  lily,  lay  ; 
Poverty,  pain,  forever  gone, — 

The  smiling  lips  had  ceased  to  moan, 
"  Noverim  7>,  noverim  me  /  " 

V. 

Then,  thro'  the  old  Cathedral  stole 
A  heavenly  whisper  :  ''  I,  the  Lord, 


A    MOTHER  S    REBUKE.  97 

Have  looked  with  love  on  the  beggar's  soul, 
And  crowned  his  works  with  a  rich  reward. 

Knowing  himself,  and  knowing  Me, 

He  hath  soared  to  the  light  of  the  perfect  Day  ; 

On  the  pinions  of  faith  he  hath  mounted  free, 
To  the  glorious  heights  of  Eternity  ! 

■Blest  shall  the  prayer  of  the  lowly  be  : 
'  Noverim  7>,  noverim  me  !  ^^' 


A    MOTHER'S    REBUKE. 

I. 

Before  a  statue  in  a  shrine  of  green, 
A  parian  image  of  the  heavenly  Queen, 
The  holy  Rodriguez,  in  rapture,  kneels, 
And  to  his  gracious  Mistress  thus  appeals : 
"  O  fair  Madonna!  sweetest  Mother  mine, 
My  heart,  my  soul,  my  being,  all  are  thine ; — 
'Tis  true,  blest  Maid  !  great  love  thou  bearest  me 
But  greater,  stronger  is  my  love  for  thee !  " 

II. 

Then  Mary,  wounded  in  her  tender  love, 
Speaks  from  the  marble  image  placed  above, 
(In  grieving  accents  speaks  the  sinless  one,) 
"  What  sayest  thou,  what  sayest  thou,  my  son  } 
13 


98  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Wouldst  measure  love?    My  dear  Alphonsus,  know, 
The  distance  'twixt  yon  sky  and  earth  below, 
Is  not  so  great  as  that  which  angels  see 
Betwixt  thy  little  love,  and  mine  for  thee  !  " 


THE    BIRD'S    ANGELUS. 

The  clock  was  striking  six, 
The  Angelus  was  ringing, — 
When,  just  above  my  lattice. 
In  the  flow'ring  thick  clematis, 
I  heard  a  robin  singing. 

"  The  Angel  of  the  Lord 
Announced  unto  Mary — " 
I  whispered  softly,  slowly, 
When,  like  a  spirit  holy. 
The  robin  sang  "  Hail,  Mary  !  " 

" — Ancilla  Do7nini — 
— According  to  thy  word — " 

The  prayer  in  broken  sweetness, 
Was  rounding  to  completeness, 

— "  Hail,  Mary  !  "  sang  the  bird. 

"  Verbum  caro  factum  est  !  " 
— I  bowed  my  head,  adoring, 


A  CANZONET  TO  OUR  LADY  OF  LOURDES.    99 

When,  with  the  church-bells  airy 
The  robin  sang  "  Hail,  Mary  !  " 
Its  soul  of  song  outpouring. 

"  Thanks,  tiny  clerk,"  I  said, 
"  Thanks,  pretty  Minnesinger  !  " 

— Lo  !  through  my  window  dropping. 
The  little  bird  came  hopping, 

iVnd  perched  upon  my  finger. 


A  CANZONET  TO  OUR  LADY  OF  LOURDES. 

I. 

Round  about  thy  shining  feet, 

Blooms  from  out  the  snows. 
Blooms  from  out  the  frost  and  sleet. 

Summer's  fragrant  rose ; 
Blessed  Queen  !  upon  our  souls 

Thy  warm  smile  reposes, — 
Let  it  thaw  their  wintry  cold, 
Draw  from  out  their  icy  mold 

Bright,  celestial  roses ! 

11. 

Where  the  rocks  their  shadows  fling, 

Lo  !  at  one  sweet  sound. 
Bursts  a  fair,  mysterious  spring 

From  the  sandy  ground  ! 


TOO  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Breathe  once  more  that  blest  command,- 

Purest  of  earth's  daughters  ! 
And  from  out  the  rocks  and  sand 
Of  these  hearts,  shall  graces  grand 
Burst,  like  healing  waters  ! 


THE  SISTERS. 

I. 

She  wrote  (dear  child)  from  London 
To  her  sister  at  Saint  Luke, 

(The  merry  madcap,  Alice, 
To  the  novice  at  Saint  Luke,) 
"  I  have  just  come  from  the  palace 
With  a  duchess  and  a  duke, 

II. 

"  In  your  poor  secluded  cloister, 

O  my  gentle  Geraldine  ! 
With  its  round  of  dreary  penance. 

And  its  ever-dull  routine, 
— What  think  you  of  the  honor 

Of  an  audience  with  the  Queen  ? 

IIL 

"  A  countess  went  before  me. 
And  a  marchioness  behind, 


THE    SISTERS.  lOI 


And  all  the  royal  chamber 
With  noblemen  was  lined; 

And  the  prince  beside  his  mother, 
Looked  upon  me,  fair  and  kind. 

IV. 

"  For  I  wore  my  snowy  velvet. 
And  my  set  of  precious  pearls. 
And  a  crown  of  whitest  roses 
Resting  lightly  on  my  curls ; 

— Now  was  I  not,  sweet  sister, 
The  happiest  of  girls.?  " 

V. 

And  Geraldine  made  answer. 
From  her  convent  by  the  sea  : 
"  God  keep  thee  ever  guileless 
In  thy  gayety  and  glee, — 

But  bear  with  me,  beloved. 
While  I  tell  my  joys  to  thee. 

VI. 

"  To-day,  my  little  Alice, 

I,  too,  at  Court  have  been, 

Have  entered  at  a  palace, 

And  held  converse  with  a  Queen, 

A  fairer  and  a  dearer 
Than  any  earthly  queen  ! 


I02  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

VII. 

"  With  wreath  of  whitest  roses 

They  crowned  thy  kneeling  nun, 

And  when  the  Queen  embraced  me, 
My  darling  little  one  ! 

Before  the  court  of  angels, 
She  espoused  me  to  her  Son  ! 

VIII. 

"The  richest,  rarest  jewels 

He  hath  brought  me  fromi  the  sky ; 
He  hath  clasped  me  to  His  bosom 

With  a  love  that  cannot  die, — 
Oh  !  tell  me,  happy  Alice, 

Art  thou  happier  than  I  ?  " 


THE  STATUE  OF  SAINT  JOSEPH. 

I. 

In  a  dear  old  Jesuit  chapel,  a  small  but  blest  retreat. 
Where  walls  of  massive  granite   shut  in  the  narrow 

street, 
There  stands  a  sculptured  image,  with  a  halo  'round 

its  brows, 
A  statue  of  Saint  Joseph,  our  Lady's  chosen  spouse. 


THE    STATUE    OF    ST.    JOSEPH.  103 

II. 

His  face  is  fair  and  noble,  his  look  is  calm  and  grave, 
The  brow  is  broad  and  lofty,  the  bearded  lips  are 

brave ; 
The  staff  he  holds  is  crested  with  lilies  undefiled, 
And,  on  his  firm  arm  resting,  he  bears  the  Holy  Child. 

III. 

A  strange  and  special  virtue  invests  that  image  old, 

And  makes  its  wood  more  precious  than  plates  of 

polish 'd  gold; 

Around  it  floats  a  fragrance,  a  breath  of  purest  grace. 

Which  draws  the  hearts  of  hundreds  to  worship  at  its 

base. 

IV. 

For  night  and  noon  and  morning,  there  kneel  before 

the  niche. 
The  ever-thronging  clients,  the  poor  beside  the  rich ; 
And  every  age  and  color,  and  every  sex  and  state. 
In  simple  faith  and  fervor,  upon  Saint  Joseph  wait. 

V. 

Unto  the  men  and  matrons,  he  shows  his  beauteous 

spouse. 
And  says  :     "  Behold  your  model !    the  glory  of  my 

house." 
Unto  the  virgin-hearted,  he  whispers,  "Blest  are  ye! 
Come  to  my  inner  chamber  of  whitest  purity !  " 


I04  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

VI. 

Drawing  the  little  children  about  the  Infant  fair, — 
Unto  the  rich  he  preaches  of  penance  and  of  prayer; 
Unto  the  poor,  he  murmurs,  "  Remember  Nazareth  !" 
And  to  the  old,   "  Make   ready  to'  share  my  happy 
death!" 

VII. 

But  if  he  hath  a  blessing  that's  sweeter,  tenderer  yet, 
'Tis  for  the  tired  workmen,  begrimed  with  dust  and 

sweat. 
Who  hear  this  cheering  welcome,  (prostrated  at  his 

knee,) 
"  Ye  are  the  well-beloved  of  Him  who  toiled  with 

me!" 

VIII. 

And  when  the  tired  and  tempted,  before  him  bending 

low, 
In  tears  rehearse  their  sorrows,  their  litany  of  woe. 
It  is  as  though  an  angel  their  aching  temples  smoothed, 
As  on  a  father's  bosom  their  bitter  sobs  are  soothed. 

IX. 

He  is  our  Father's  shadow,  that  royal  artisan, 
Spouse  of  the  Queen  of  heaven,  guide  of  a  God  made 

man ! 
Ah !  lay  thy  staff  of  lilies  upon  each  guilty  soul, 
And  win  us  all,  Saint  Joseph !  to  seek  thy  safe  control ! 


A    TRYST    WITH    THE    FLOWERS.  I05 

X. 

In  Life's  gigantic  workshop,  thou  must  be   in  our 

midst, 
To  supervise  our  labors,  as  thou  Emmanuel's  didst ; 
And  thou  canst  ask  no  favor  that  can  ungranted  be, 
For  Christ,  our  God  and  Saviour,  was  subject  unto 

thee! 


A  TRYST  WITH   THE   FLOWERS. 

I. 

Roses,  sunny  roses, 

Swinging,  clinging,  on  the  wall  ; 
White  as  milk  and  red  as  coral, 

Trailing  down  the  convent-wall ; 
Keep  the  freshness  and  the  sweetness 

Of  your  glowing  hearts  unspent — 
I  am  coming  at  the  sunset. 

Give  me  bloom,  and  give  me  scent ! 

II. 

Lilies,  calla  lilies. 

Nodding  at  the  fountain's  brim  : 
Virgin  lilies  of  the  valley. 

In  your  cloisters  green  and  dim  ; 
Turn  your  white,  exquisite  faces 

From  the  gaze  of  every  eye, 
14 


I06  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

I  am  coming  at  the  sunset, 

Little  nuns,  be  veiled  and  shy  ! 

III. 

Violets,  sweet  violets, 

Lighting  up  the  grassy  maze, 
Like  amethysts  and  sapphires 

Asleep  on  em'rald  sprays ; 
Do  not  let  the  laughing  children 

Trample  down  your  purple  heads, 
I  am  coming  at  the  sunset, 

Be  exultant  in  your  beds  ! 

IV. 

I  am  coming, —  lo!  the  sunset 

Sparkles  on  this  altar-vase, — 
All  the  glories  of  the  garden 

In  its  crystal  mouth  I  place; 
Here's  our  Lady's  ivied  grotto, 

Burning  tapers  star  the  green, — 
Bloom  your  best,  and  breathe  your  sweetest, 

Flowers  !  do  homage  to  your  Queen  ! 


OUR    LADY    OF    MOUNT    CARMEL.  I07 


HYMN  FOR  THE  CONFRATERNITY  OF  OUR 
LADY  OF  MOUNT  CARMEL. 

I. 

Pure  as  Carmel's  snows,  and  lovely 

As  its  first  fair  morning-shine  ; 
Crowned  with  stars  of  changeless  splendor, 

Hail,  thou  Mother,  Maid  divine ! 
Hail,  thou  Lady  of  the  Mountain, 

Rearing  up  its  stately  height. 
Emblematic  of  thy  graces, 

Glowing  in  immortal  light. 

Mother  of  Mount  Carmel!  hear, 
Shades  are  falling,  night  is  near, 

IL 
From  the  wide  wastes  of  the  ocean, 

Where  the  bird-like  vessels  sail ; 
From  the  deep  haunts  of  the  city. 

Where  the  weak  and  tempted  wail ; 
In  the  battle,  in  the  chapel, 

From  the  bondsman  and  the  free, 
This  sweet  incense  still  is  wafted. 
This  sweet  prayer  swept  up  to  thee, 

Mother  of  Mount  Carmel!  hear, 
Shades  are  falling,  night  is  near ! 


I08  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 


PUREST    OF    THE.  PURE. 


Pure  as  the  snows, —  we  say.     Ah  !  never  flake 

Fell  thro'  the  brooding  air 

One  half  as  fair 
As  Mary's  soul  was  made  for  Christ's  dear  sake. 

Virgin  immaculate ! 
The  whitest  whiteness  of  the  Alpine  snows, 
Beside  thy  stainless  spirit,  dusky  grows. 

II. 

Pure  as  the  stars  2 — Ah  !  never  lovely  night 

Wore  in  its  diadem 

As  pure  a  gem 
As  that  which  fills  the  ages  with  its  light. 

Virgin  immaculate  ! 
The  peerless  splendors  of  thy  soul,  by  far, 
Outshine  the  glow  of  heaven's  clearest  star. 

III. 

Pure  as  the  lilies  ? —  Dearest  Queen,  forgive 
The  fond  but  feeble  trope. 
—  Mother  of  hope. 
Fair  love  and  holy  fear  !  there  doth  not  live, 


PUREST    OF    THE    PURE.  I09 

Virgin  immaculate ! 
In  all  the  grassy  haunts  where  lilies  blow- 
As  white,  as  rare,  as  sweet  a  Flow'r  as  thou  ! 

IV. 

Pure  as  the  breath  of  God  !    O  clean  of  heart ! 

These  happy  words  can  tell 

The  miracle 
Of  how  divinely  innocent  thou  art ! 

Virgin  immaculate ! 
Under  thy  shining  cloak  our  vileness  hide. 
Lest  her  own  kindred  should  disgrace  the  Bride. 


no  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 


SONG    OF    SAINT    GERTRUDE    TO    OUR 
BLESSED    LADY. 

"  The  Blessed  Mother  of  the  Saviour  made  Saint  Gertrude  understand  that 
if  any  one  saluting  her  devoutly  called  her  the  white  lily  of  the  Trin- 
ity^ and  the  vermilion  rose  which  blooms  171  heaven.^  she  would  take  in 
hand  to  make  apparent  in  that  person  -what  she  can  do  by  the  might  of 
the  Father  ;  how  subtle  she  is  in  providing  for  the  salvation  of  men  by 
the  wisdom  of  the  Son  ;  and  lastly^  what  is  that  excess  of  love  with 
which  her  heart  is  filled  by  the  Charity  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  To  which 
she  added  these  words  :  '/  %vill  also  appear  to  him  who  shall  salute  me 
in  such  sort  at  the  moment  when  his  soul  separates  itself fom  his  body., 
but  in  beauty  of  such  wondrous  splendor  that  I  will  make  him  taste.,  by 
anticipation.,  the  sweetness  of  heaven.''  "—Revelations  of  St.  Ger- 
trude. 

I. 

O  white,  white  Lily  of  the  Holy  Trinity  ! 
O  red,  red  Rose  !  majestical  and  sweet. 
Ever  peaceful  and  resplendent,  in  thy  glory,  breathe 
and  bloom, 
Till  my  little  life  lies  fragrant  at  thy  feet. 
O  white,  white  Lily !  O  red,  red  Rose  ! 

IL 

O  white,  white  Lily  of  the  mighty  Trinity ! 

O  red,  red  Rose !  whose  odor  fills  the  skies ; 
In  thy  womb,  the  King  of  heaven  chose.  Madonna!  to 
be  born. 
The  milk  of  thy  breasts  fed  the  Prince  of  Paradise, 
O  white,  white  Lily  !  O  red,  red  Rose  ! 


TRIBUTE    OF    THE    MONTHS    TO    MARY.  Ill 

III. 

O  white,  white  Lily  of  the  august  Trinity  ! 

O  red,  red  Rose  !  immortal  and  divine, 
By  the  burnings   and  the  yearnings  of  thy  pure  and 
potent  heart, 
Impart  delicious  nourishment  to  this  poor  heart  of 
mine. 
And,  in  its  last  dread  agony, 
From  out  the  darkness  shine, 

O  white,  white  Lily  !  O  red,  red  Rose  ! 


TRIBUTE    OF    THE    MONTHS    TO    MARY. 

I. 

Chants  the  ice-crown'd  January  : 
"  I  within  my  bosom,  bear 

Thine  Espousals,  pure  and  fair. 
Virgin  Bride  !  I  hail  thee,  Mary  !" 

Moans  the  shiv'ring  February  : 
^"  Candlemas,  amid  the  snow, 

Bids  the  blessed  tapers  glow. 
Bids  them  burn  for  thee,  O  Mary  !  " 

IL 

Cries  the  boisterous  March  :  "  I  see 
Early  snow-drops  in  the  way  : 


112  LEGENDS    AND    LYRICS. 

Sweet  Annunciation  Day 
Blooms,  O  sinless  Maid,  for  thee  !  " 

April  stands  and  weeps  :  "Ah  !  me, 
Ne'er  was  sorrow  like  to  thine, — 
Mother  !  'neath  the  Cross  divine, 

Let  me  stand  and  mourn  with  thee  !  " 

III. 

May,  among  her  violets  airy, 

Sings  exultant  hymns  of  praise  : 
"  All  my  nights  and  all  my  days 
Are  thy  very  own,  dear  Mary !   ' 

June,  the  rosy,  radiant  fairy. 

Murmurs  :  "  Oh  !  how  fair  thou  art  ! 
Lady  of  the  Sacred  Heart ! 

Summer's  sweets  are  thine,  sweet  Mary  ! 

IV. 

Flowers  in  her  tangled  hair. 
Pants  the  beautiful  July : 
"  Visitation  Day  is  nigh, 
Mary's  happy  journey  share  !  " 

August,  sinking,  flushed  and  fair, 

In  the  harvest  fields  to  rest : 
"  Welcome  !  "  cries,  ''  L'Assunta  blest. 
Queen  of  heaven  !  hear  our  prayer !  " 


TRIBUTE    OF    THE    MONTHS    TO    MARY.  II, 

V. 

Beauteous  babe  her  arms  between, 
Sweet  September  seems  to  say  : 
"  Hither  haste,  and  homage  pay- 
To  the  little  new-born  Queen  !  " 

-Floats  thro'  russet  fields,  once  green. 
Brown  October's  plaintive  plea, 
"  Lady  of  the  Rosary ! 
Hear  our  Aves,  Maid  serene  !  " 

VI. 

Pale  November,  at  the  door, 

Kneels  in  mystic  contemplation  : 
"  'Tis  our  Lady's  Presentation, 
Zealous  souls,  her  help  implore  !  " 

Raptur'd,  cries  December  hoar, 
"  Queen  conceived  without  the  stain 

Of  the  sin  of  Adam, —  reign 
O'er  our  hearts  for  evermore  !  " 


15 


OTHER    POEMS. 


OTHER    POEMS. 


MAY  CAROLS. 

I. 
I. 

Glorious  Mother !  from  high  heaven, 

Down  upon  thy  children  gaze, 
Gathered  in  thy  own  loved  season, 

Thee  to  bless,  and  thee  to  praise. 

Chorus. —  See,  sweet  Mary,  on  thy  altars 

Bloom  the  fairest  buds  of  May, 
Oh  !  may  we,  earth's  sons  and  daughters, 
Grow,  by  grace,  as  pure  as  they ! 

2. 

Earth  is  darksome,  we  are  weary, 

Satan  setteth  snares  for  all ; 
Pray  for  us,  O  tender  Mary ! 

Pray  to  Jesus,  lest  we  fall. 

Chorus. — 

3- 

Many  call  upon  thee.  Mother, 

Some  in  manhood,  strong  in  youth, 


Il8  OTHER    POEMS. 

Some  in  age,  in  tender  childhood, 
All,  in  loving  faith  and  truth. 

Chorus. —  * 

4. 
Raise  thy  voice  for  us  to  Jesus, 

In  this  blessed  month  of  thine ; 
Raise  thy  pure  hands  up  to  bless  us, 
As  we  linger  round  thy  shrine. 

Chorus. — 

5- 
Bless,  oh!  bless  us,  now  and  ever, 
,    Thou  who^o.nce  the  dark  earth  t^rod. 
And  when  dying,  waft  our  spirits 
To  the  bosom  of  our  God ! 

Chorus. — 

II. 

I. 

I  Awake!  O  smiling  May  ! 
P  J       The  wintry  night  hath  flown, 

And  in  her  loving  way, 

Sweet  Mary  claims  her  throne ; 

Like  some  dear  friend  she  walks  apart 

Amid  the-  sunny  days, 
And  leads  our  eager,  wearied  hearts 

Thro'  still  and  peaceful  ways. 
And  while  our  souls  within  us  glow. 


MAY    CAROLS.  II9 


She  smiles  and  blesses  all  below  ; 
All  hail,  to-day, 
The  Queen  of  May ! 

Chorus. —  Awake!  O  smiling  May! 

The  wintry  nights  hath  flown, 
And  in  her  loving  w^ay. 

Sweet  Mary  claims  her  throne. 

2. 

The  world  of  bloom  around  us  spread 

Hath  not  a  flower  more  sweet 
Than  these,  the  buds  which  love  hath  shed, 

Dear  Mother  !   at  thy  feet. 
Oh !  may  they  ever  live  and  glow. 
To  bless  and  brighten  all  below ; 
All  hail,  to-day. 
The  Queen  of  May  I 
Chorus. — 

3- 
O  Mother !  in  thy  tender  arms, 

Dear  Jesus  rests  secure; 
Oh!  win  us  to  His  Infant  charms. 

And  make  us  meek  and  pure. 
And  if  He  smiles  upon  our  woe, 
'Twill  bless  and  brighten  all  below ; 
All  hail,  to-day. 
The  Queen  of  May ! 
Chorus. — 


I20  OTHER    POEMS. 


4- 

O  thou  to  whom  the  demons  crouch, 
Who  stood  in  gentle  power 

At  Jesus'  cross,  and  Joseph's  couch, 
Oh  !  bless  our  dying  hour  ! 

And  then  above  we'll  see  and  know 

The  hand  that  brightened  all  below. 

All  hail,  to-day. 

The  Queen  of  May ! 
Chorus. — 

III. 
I. 

Queen  of  the  skies,  so  brightly  fair, 
So  mild,  so  chaste,  so  meek. 

We  beg  thy  love,  we  claim  thy  care. 
Thy  children,  frail  and  weak. 

Behold!  our  prayers,  like  incense,  rise, 
Queen  of  the  skies  ! 

Mary,  loved  Mary,  Queen  of  the  skies ! 

2. 

The  shadows  of  a  sinful  earth 
Are  hov'ring  o'er  our  way ; 

O  thou  who  gav'st  a  Saviour  birth, 
Be  thou  our  guide  and  stay. 

Oh  !  turn  on  us  thy  loving  eyes, 
Queen  of  the  skies  ! 

Mary,  loved  Mary,  queen  of  the  skies ! 


MAY    CAROLS.  121 


3- 

The  fragrant  wreath  for  thee  we  twine, 

To  thee  our  voices,  raise ; 
As  'round  thy  chaste  and  holy  shrine 

We  hymn  our  notes  of  praise. 
Oh !  hear  our  prayers,  receive  our  sighs, 

Queen  of  the  skies  ! 
Mary,  loved  Mary,  queen  of  the  skies ! 

IV. 
I. 

'Tis  the  month  of  our  Mother, 

The  blessed  and  beautiful  days. 
When  our  lips  and  our  spirits 

Are  glowing  with  love  and  with  praise. 

Chorus. —  All  hail,  to  dear  Mary, 

The  guardian  of  our  way ! 
To  the  fairest  of  Queens, 

Be  the  fairest  of  seasons,  sweet  May  ! 

2. 

Oh  !  what  peace  to  her  children, 
'Mid  sorrows  and  trials,  to  know 

That  the  love  of  their  Mother 
Hath  ever  a  solace  for  woe. 

Chorus. — 

i6 


122  OTHER    POEMS. 


3- 

And  what  joy  to  the  erring, 
The  sinful  and  sorrowful  soul, 

That  a  trust  in  her  guidance, 
Will  lead  to  a  glorious  goal ! 

Chorus. — 

4- 
Let  us  sing,  then,  rejoicing 

That  God  hath  so  honored  our  race. 
As  to  clothe,  with  our  nature, 

Sweet  Mary,  the  Mother  of  grace. 

Chorus. — 

5- 
And  here,  at  her. altars. 

Let  pride  and  unkindness  depart, 
For  she  loves  not  the  praise 
Of  a  proud  or  a  selfish  heart. 

Chorus. — 

6. 

But  bring  flowers  of  Purity, 
Meekness,  Patience,  and  Love ; 

They  are  garlands  unfading. 
The  blossoms  which  open  above. 

Chorus. — 

7. 
And  the  heart  of  our  Mother 

Will  glow  with  a  hallowed  delight ; 


MAY    CAROLS.  I  23 


And  the  buds  of  this  May-tide, 
No  wind  of  the  Winter  can  blight ! 
Chorus. — 

V. 

I. 

As  the  gentle  Spring  uncloses, 

And  the  Winter  fades  away. 
Sunlight  glistens,  lilies  blow, 

As  we  greet  the  month  of  May; 
As  we  hail  its  peerless  Queen, 

Mary,  Mother  of  delight ! 
In  her  own  especial  season, 

Sing  her  praise  from  morn  till  night. 

Chorus. —  Mary,  Mother  sweet, 
Mary,  Mother  fair. 
Virgin,  Queen  discreet, 
Hear,  oh  hear  our  prayer  ! 
Unto  Jesus  pray 
That  each  day 
We  may  grow  like  thee,  our  Queen  of  May ! 

2. 
May  is  Mary's,  she  is  ours. 

Thus  the  month  is  doubly  dear; 
As  we  crown  her  with  our  flowers, 

Angels  gladly  hover  near; 
And  the  blessed  Jesus  smiles 

On  each  humble  votary ; 


124  OTHER    POEMS. 


And  our  homage  to  His  Mother 
Will  requite  most  graciously. 
Chorus. — 

3. 
Dearest  Mother!  we  remember 

How,  at  one  request  of  thine, 
Jesus,  at  the  marriage />i"/^, 

Changed  the  water  into  wine; 
At  our  feast,  ah  !  let  the  water 
Of  our  tears,  thy  pity  move ! 
Beg,  oh !  beg  thy  Son  to  change  it 
To  the  wine  of  perfect  love  ! 
Chorus. — 

4- 
Take  us  all  'neath  thy  protection. 

Heart  and  soul  and  senses,  take! 
Tell  dear  Jesus  we  are  thine. 

And  He'll  bless  us  for  thy  sake  ; 
And  the  treasures  of  our  May 
Up  in  heaven  we  shall  store, 
Naught  shall  steal  them,  naught  corrode  them, 
They  shall  last  for  evermore  ! 
Chorus. — 

VI. 

From  the  French. 
I. 

Blessed  are  we  as  the  children  of  a  Mother 
Who,  in  her  grace,  surpasses  all ; 


MAY    CAROLS.  I  25 


Hasten,  then  hasten,  with  gladness  to  her  altar, 
There,  at  her  feet,  in  tenderness  fall. 

Chorus. —  Behold,  the  month  of  Mary! 

It  passes  like  a  white-wing'd  dove, 
And  thro'  its  hours  of  glory. 
Resound  our  strains  of  love. 

Beautiful  Mary,  sweetest  of  Mothers, 
Oh !  bless  us  ere  thy  month  departs ; 

Beautiful  Mary,  sweetest  of  Mothers, 
Receive  our  lays,  receive  our  hearts ! 


Slowly  the  Winter  faded  on  the  mountain, 
Leaving  the  streams,  all  chainless,  free, 

Buds  of  the  meadows  and  waters  of  the  fountain, 
All  are  awaking,  sweet  Mother  !  for  thee. 

Chorus. — 

3- 
Bless  then,  O  Mary  !  the  gifts  of  smiling  nature, 

Sweeter  than  these,  there  scarce  could  be. 
Fields  in  their  beauty  have  yielded  thee  their  treasure, 

Birds  in  their  gladness  are  singing  for  thee  ! 

Chorus. — 

4- 
We,  too,  will  praise  thee,  pure  and  stainless  Mother ! 
We  will  unite  with  flower  and  bird  : 


126  OTHER    POEMS. 


For  'round  thine  altars,  thro'  all  thy  sacred  season, 
Lays  of  thy  glory,  thy  beauty  are  heard. 

Chorus. —  * 

5. 
Here  in  the  morn  and  in  the  shades  of  even, 

We  in  our  joy  will  bend  each  day; 
Flowers  may  fade,  and  the  song  of  birds  be  missing, 

Love  and  devotion  will  never  decay  ! 

Chorus. — 


THE  CROWNING  OF  THE  QUEEN. 

(A  convent-chapel  filled  with  the  little  children  of  Mary.  A  fair 
altar  on  which  is  seen  a  statue  of  our  Blessed  Mother  sur- 
rounded by  lights  and  flowers.  A  band  of  white-robed  and 
white- veiled  children  stand  before  it.) 

Margaret  speaks : 

"  It  is  the  month  of  Mary, 

The  fairest  month  of  Spring ; 
Our  feast,  the  coronation 

Of  the  Mother  of  our  King. 
While  starry  tapers  twinkle, 

While  incense  floats  serene, 
What  gifts,  O  happy  children  ! 

Have  you  brought  our  blessed  Queen  ?  " 


THE    CROWNING    OF    THE    QUEEN.  127 


Angela  and  Lucy,  bearing  between  them  a  wreath  of  violets  : 

"  O  meek  and  humble  Mother  ! 

We  offer  thee  to-day 
The  freshest,  sweetest  violets 

That  ever  crowned  thy  May ; 
We've  sought  them  in  the  meadows, 

In  groves  and  gardens  green. 
Sweet  symbols  of  thy  lowliness, 

Accept  them,  gracious  Queen  !  " 

Rosalie  and  Gertrude,  bearing  a  coronal  of  roses  : 

''  O  lovely,  smiling  Mother  ! 

Our  gift  is  fairer  yet, 
These  white  and  scarlet  roses, 

With  early  dew-drops  wet ; 

ou  art  the  Rose  of  Sharon, 

By  prophet  eyes  foreseen. 
Oh  !  take  our  fragrant  roses, 

And  be  our  peerless  Queen  !  " 

Alice  and  Regina,  bearing  a  chaplet  of  lilies  : 

*'  O  pure  and  stainless  Mother  ! 
Behold  !  our  hands  are  full 
Of  lilies  of  the  valley, 

And  water-lilies  cool ; 
Amid  the  thorns,  blest  Lily  ! 
No  stain  in  thee  was  seen. 


128  OTHER    POEMS. 


Receive  these  buds  immaculate, 
And  be  our  Virgin  Queen  !  " 

Margaret,  taking  the  three  wreaths,  forms  them  into  a  triple 

crown  : 

"  Behold,  O  Queen  of  Angels  ! 

Thy  little  children  now 
Approach  to  place  this  coronet 

Upon  thy  glorious  brow. 
Beside  thy  heav'nly  diadem 

Our  wreath  is  plain  and  poor, 
But  when  we  do  our  humble  best, 

Thou  dost  demand  no  more." 

She  places  the  crown  on  the  head  of  the  statue,  and  all  exclaim 

together  : 

'*  Rejoice,  rejoice,  ye  angels  ! 

Our  Queen  of  May  is  crown'd ! 
Let  hymns  of  joy  and  triumph 

From  ev'ry  lip  resound. 
O  virgin  eyes  !  which  light  the  skies, 

Smile  on  our  weak  endeavor ; 
Receive  our  hearts  among  the  flowers. 

And  be  our  Queen  forever !  " 


THE    CANNON    IN    THE    CONVENT-GROUNDS.        I29 


THE  CANNON  IN  THE  CONVENT-GROUNDS. 

When,  in  September,  i86r,  General  Lew  Wallace,  commanding  the  Fed- 
eral Forces  in  Southern  Kentucky,  applied  to  St.  Mary's,  the  Mother  House 
of  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Cross,  for  nurses,  Mother  Angela,  with  five  other 
Sisters,  hastened  to  the  relief  of  the  suffering  soldiers  at  the  camp  in  Paducah. 
And  before  the  opening  of  the  year  1862,  seventy-five  Sisters  were  sent  from 
St.  Mary's,  and  her  branch  houses,  to  the  military  hospitals  at  Louisville, 
Paducah,  Cairo,  Mound  City,  Memphis,  and  Washington  City.  Of  this  num- 
ber, two  died  from  fever,  caught  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties.  When  the 
western  flotilla  of  gunboats  opened  the  Mississippi  River,  Commodore  Davis 
asked  and  obtained  the  services  of  seven  Sisters  of  the  Holj^  Cross  to  take 
charge  of  the  floating  hospital,  in  which  hundreds  of  lives  were  saved.  These 
deeds  were  not  done  for  the  world's  praise  ;  they  were  the  duties  to  which  the 
lives  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Cross  are  devoted,  whenever  suflering  human- 
ity requires  their  help.  A  memorial  of  those  days  now  rests  in  St.  Mary's 
grounds,  in  the  shape  of  two  immense  shattered  cannon,  captured  at  Island 
No.  10,  and  presented  to  Mother  Angela  by  the  commander  of  the  Flotilla. 
These  cannon  are  destined  to  be  moulded  into  a  statue  of  ''  Our  Lady  of 
Peace,"  and  will  remain  in  St.  Mary's  grounds  as  an  historical  monument  of 
the  dark  days  of  our  Civil  War. — Extract  fro77t  South-Bend  Tribune. 

See,  where  they  lie  'mid  the  frosts  of  the  Winter, 
Just  as  they  lay  'mid  the  grasses  and  flowers 

All  these  long  Summers, —  a  War-breathing  cen  ter. 
Mocking  the  calm  of  these  woodlands  of  ours. 

Nearly  two  decades  of  peace  have  been  numbered 
By  Time  (the  old  clerk)  on  his  chaplet  of  years. 

Since  first  in  this  sylvan  seclusion  they  slumbered. 
Sprinkled  with  blood-drops  and  shining  with  tears. 

O'er  the  cold  metal,  now  rusted  and  rimy. 
Year  after  year  the  green  mosses  have  crept  ; 
17 


130  OTHER    POEMS. 


Silvery  sweet,  thro'  yon  tubes,  dark  and  grimy, 
The  bells  of  St.  Mary's  their  echoes  have  swept. 

Oft  on  those  arches  the  robin  sat  singing 

The  song  of  the  Spring  to  the  mate  on  its  nest; 

Athwart  the  black  nozzles,  the  Summer  wind  winging, 
Breathed  perfume  and  balm  from  the  groves  of  the 
West, 

Gently  the  dead  leaves  have  fallen  upon  them 
With  delicate  whispers  of  rest  and  release ; 

And  even  the  snow-flakes,  thick-fluttering  on  them. 
Have  swelled,  in  their  turn,  the  soft  chorus  of  Peace ! 

Come,  put  your  ear  to  these  lips,  black  and  hoary. 
List  to  this  voice,  breathing  ruin  no  more ; 

The  harsh  tones  grow  sweet  as  they  tell  of  the  story 
Of  Mercy's  blest  part  in  the  pageant  of  War; 

Tell  of  the  nuns  of  historic  St.  Mary's, 
Binding  the  camp  and  the  hospital  bloom 

With  Heaven's  own  glory  :  like  minist'ring  fairies, 
Shedding  God's  sunlight  thro'  suffering's  gloom. 

Floating,  sweet  saints,  on  the  dark  winding  waters. 
Alone  with  the  wounded,  the  dying,  the  dead, — 

Christ  of  the  Holy  Cross  !  bless  Thy  dear  daughters, 
Brave  help  of  our  heroes  who  battled  and  bled! 

Lift  the  great  guns  from  the  snows  which  enfold  them. 
Heat  the  vast  furnace, —  War's  echoes  must  cease; 


THE    CANNON    IN    THE    CONVENT-GROUNDS.       131 

Swift  in  the  mighty  flames  melt  them  and  mould  them 
Into  one  image — Our  Lady  of  Peace  ! 

Tranquil  and  tender  from  out  the  dark  iron, 
Soon  the  dear  face  on  her  children  shall  shine ; 

Grandeur  and  grace  not  of  earth  shall  environ 
The  form  of  our  Mother,  the  sinless,  divine  ! 

Trophies  of  Death  in  Life's'^  image  dissolving, — 
Beautiful  Peace  veiling  visions  of  gore, — 

Praise  to  our  God!  while  the  years  are  revolving, 
Madonna  of  Peace  !  thou  shalt  leave  us  no  more ! 


*"Our  life,  our  sweetness,  and  our  hope  !  " — Salve  Regina. 


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